


Risky Business

by Macx



Series: Years of Transition [3]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-05
Updated: 2011-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An important event on Cybertron requires Nikaa's services as a thief. But when it turns out that the item in question gets really stolen, all blame falls on him. And the sentence for stealing the Ein'iian crown jewels is death.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Risky Business

  
"Uh, it's ugly."   
Nightfire Dancer looked up and smiled at his assistant. "It's not pretty, but I wouldn't exactly call it ugly, Elb."   
"Depends on your definition of 'ugly'. There's bad looking, ugly and disgusting. This isn't yet disgusting, but on its best way to it." Elb grinned. He was a small but compact Autobot, half the size of his colleague, stronger than most of his larger comrades and extremely agile, belying his boxy exterior.   
The topic of their discussion was a black, stone-carved mask of a woman. The woman was grotesquely captured, her head a leering demon face, eyes hollow and filled with colored glass stones, and sharp teeth. The hair was only partly carved into the mask and a few strings of a soft substance, maybe real hair, clung to the mask.   
"The ancient Ein'ii Mha thought of her as the most powerful goddess of their tribe and this was a tribute to her," Nightfire Dancer launched into a lecture about old Ein'ii history. "They believed she would choose the wearer of the mask, the tribe's shaman, as her vessel in this world, giving him special power, mainly to protect their tribe from raiders."   
Nightfire Dancer was an Autobot as well, one of the few scholars who had somehow survived the war without becoming a warrior. He had hidden beneath the surface, collecting the old knowledge, storing it, keeping it save. When the alliance had been formed he had resurfaced, bringing with him historical data thought lost forever. He was a walking encyclopedia.   
Elb nodded now. "But it's still ugly." He took the mask and carefully put it into a crate laid out with wrapping materials. "Chimera is pretty excited about the whole exhibition. Haven't seen him that emotional for as long as I can remember."   
"Understandable. It's quite an event in the old museum halls. I heard they are transporting the high point of the exhibition to the vault tonight."   
"Oh, yeah, the staff." Elb placed the crate next to the display case the artifact would later be in. "I hope we can get all of this set up in time."   
"With Kup and Chimera both breathing down our necks, yes, I guess we will." Nightfire Dancer chuckled. "Let's finish cataloging and then start with the displays."   
Both robots went to work.

* * *

Optimus Prime looked around the Grand Central Hall and nodded to himself. Everything looked perfect for the reception. The hall was new, one of the biggest ceremonial halls on Cybertron, maybe aside from the ancient hall on the other side of Cybertron, the one that was still standing in the ruins of the old capital city. Thousands of people fit in here. A large, massive stage had been set up at the far side and chairs of different sizes had been set up in front o fit, taking into account the different sizes of the aliens attending. The high walls were   
covered by long flags bearing the symbols of each faction, colored in each party's color. Prime smiled a bit, remembering the slightly dumbfound expression of Midnight and Tornado when the leaders had been asked for their colors.   
While Autobots and Decepticons had had their respective colors for a long time, neither Sentinels or Seekers had ever lost a thought about it. Now the purple and red and golden flags of Decepticons, Autobots and Venerakkin were framed by the silver one of the Seekers and the icy blue one of the Sentinels. In the middle hung the alliance symbol.   
Security was discretely present, guards keeping watchful optics on the people present and those arriving. Optimus knew each and every one of them and he was pleased to see that they came from every faction. Kup, the head of security, was in the security command center, checking and changing schedules and programs. This reception was important and the security was tighter than inside a vault. Kup had been and still was driving everyone insane with his demands for constant checks, but Prime knew he was not doing it without reason.   
People were milling around, drinking, eating, chatting, waiting. Optimus noticed Catherine Lee Russell standing with a group of diplomats from other worlds, smiling, exchanging niceties. It was amazing, he thought. She had changed from a xenophobic Cybertron-hater to a person fighting down her fear and actively trying to help Cybertron and its allies. Her Interface with F/X had helped, as well as her friendship with Jeff Winters, who was accompanying her, looking a bit uncomfortable in his black evening suit and tie. F/X was part of the security detail outside. Cathy Lee was filling in for Daniel Witwicky, who had been unable to attend due to health reasons.   
Sadness washed over Prime at the thought. Daniel was growing old, to put it bluntly. He was older than any other human born in the same year, which was mainly due to a lot of space travel and the fact that time on Cybertron passed differently than on Earth. Because of this, standard years had been introduced, helping with time tables and schedules. Daniel was ancient for an Earth human and old for a Cybertron human. Optimus sighed silently. It reminded him too much of the difference between their species. Humans were incredibly short-lived, but they lived their lives so intensely that it made other species, like his own, forget that their life-span was over in a flash. Too many of his human friends were already dead and many more would still die. And to make the difference even more pronounced, the Interfaces, humans and other organic, normally mortal aliens, were eternally linked to their respective robot partner; ageless; timeless...... trapped and free in one.   
Pulling himself out of his dark thoughts Optimus was aware of Rodimus standing at his side. His second-in-command was surveying the room with watchful optics, his face set into an impassive mask, one he wore at diplomatic functions. He hated politics, but he attended them and he functioned with an outside ease that was betraying his mixed feelings. Thinking about his young friend, Optimus knew that masks were a kind of shield for him. Rodimus easily slipped them on and off and sometimes he wondered whether he was confronting one or not. He had learned to read him throughout their years as partners-in-command, and he knew Rodimus Prime as much as Rodimus knew Optimus Prime. The Matrix was just one of many factors linking them.   
Rodimus had changed a lot in the time they were partners now. The Matrix had chosen Hot Rod to be the Autobot leader when Optimus Prime had died; it had created Rodimus Prime. At least it had created the body while Hot Rod was still himself inside. He had coped, he had led the Autobots out of a disastrous war into a new era. And then Optimus Prime had returned. Prime smiled as he thought back to their initial years after this return. He thought back to Hot Rod's denial that he was still Rodimus Prime, that Rodimus was just a physical appearance while Hot Rod was still inside. He remembered the stunts the young Autobot had pulled, the anger and pain expressed in them, and he how one humanoid female had changed this. Shanygn had managed to get Hot Rod to stop his self-destruction and had steered him back on track where Optimus had taken over. Rodimus Prime was back, though he had always been there, and Optimus had to confess they wouldn't be where they were today if not for this partnership.   
"The delegates are on their way," Rodimus now said, jolting him out of his thoughts. "And Megatron as well, though we better not step into his way." He smiled wryly.   
Optimus chuckled to himself. Megatron hated official functions even more than Rodimus and made no move to hide it. That he was present tonight was only because the Ein'ii were valuable allies and the Council's presence was important. Well, most of the Council was present anyway. Cyclonus was about on Cybertron because of rising trouble with Decepticon renegades and Firefall had left a week ago and not returned. No one knew where she was.   
"Everything is ready," Rodimus went on. "Kup just gave me a last security report. He triple-checked the Hall once more."   
Optimus' optics flashed in amusement at that.   
His younger friend brushed some imaginary dust off his freshly polished skin, looking a bit tense and wired. He had been deep under with doorway research and Optimus, receiving only the roughly detailed reports of his work, knew it was an immense burden. And with the latest accident, the one that had changed not only their approach to doorways but also Melissa Witwicky, it meant even more work.   
Mel.....   
Optimus hadn't seen her except for that one time shortly after the accident and his mind was still unable to accept what had happened to her. She had changed from a human into a hybrid robot-organic and no one had any explanation for it. She seemed to take it well, but appearances could be deceiving. Optimus knew this only too well.   
A fanfare interrupted his thoughts and his optics were drawn to the entrance, as were everyone else's. Megatron joined them, his face a dark cloud of contained annoyance. Optimus swallowed his grin, one that would most likely have been visible in his optics.   
The Ein'ii delegation entered the room and steered toward the Autobot leaders who were now framed and joined by the rest of the Council. The reception was underway.

* * *

Melissa was in her quarters in the sprawling new wing of West Central reserved for the command staff, the Council members and doorway teams. She belonged to neither, but still she had been given quarters. It wasn't that she had a special status, they had explained to her, though she had in a way, but because she needed a place among friends she trusted and knew, and Mel knew some of the robots in this area better than anyone else. Courtesy of being an empathic medic.   
Her quarters were spacious but definitely constructed for only one occupant to live in. She had tried to furnish them like her old ones, finding it hard to do so. The bed had to go, making way for a recharge bed. She was afraid of this particular procedure, using her body's second way of taking in energy for some time now: food. Mel was a hybrid and she could either use energon or organic food, and right now she was sticking to what she knew. Then there had been her possessions. She no longer needed clothes. They didn't fit anymore and she couldn't wear them as a robot anyway. Her memorabilia, her books, her papers, her whole life ... all no longer fit. Part of it had been transferred to Cybertronian size. The rest.... her niece DJ had helped her pack and carry it to her own quarters, storing it. But for what? Mel had no idea.   
At least she had been able to make those new quarters look less robotic, less Cybertronian, with what she had. She had a real couch, she had old paper books, she had a very resistant carpet, she had a shower unit – mainly to clean her organic parts – and she had a kitchen, something totally new to Cybertronian kind. Well, as a hybrid she had to eat.   
Hybrid.   
The word made her shudder and feel the familiar nightmares come back in broad daylight again. A trip through the doorway, a power failure, a disastrous ride to an alien world.... and she had been transformed into a robotic human. Her body was both organic and cybernetic, merging both technologies in an intricate way. There was no telling where one began and the other ended. Her molecules were fused with the metal. And it was her, that much had been proven. First Aid had taken DNA samples and Perceptor had determined that the organic part was really Melissa Witwicky, while the metal was close to Sentinel technology. They could not be separated because there was nowhere to begin. They had no clue how it had happened and none concerning how to reverse it. She was a mystery.   
Melissa sighed and stopped in her work. She felt tired and worn, mentally as well as physically. She knew she had to use the recharge chamber one day, had to give her robotic body what it demanded, but going off-line was a terrible experience for her. It wasn't like sleeping at all! One moment she was conscious, the next she blacked-out, only to come to full consciousness again. There was no waking up! It scared her.   
She had people who helped her. Her father was one. Spike had unobtrusively guided her, had shown her ways to accept what she was now, knowing what she felt. He had gone through the same, only much, much slower. But he could draw on experiences as Autobot Spike, which were even more nightmarish than what she had felt at first.   
Another one was Nightmare, the Gatekeeper of the black team. With the doorway research shut down until further notice and only going on in the cyberspace of a computer, he had time to concentrate on other tasks. He had been with her when the metamorphosis had happened. Nightmare had helped her with her new robotic body and while Spike did a lot of psychological work, Nightmare was familiarizing her with the physical aspect of this new existence.   
And then there was DJ. She was one of the few people who seemed to have no problems that her aunt was now a giant half-robotic creature. She still dragged her out for window shopping, she asked her 'woman' questions, she talked endlessly about things both liked, and to infinity about stuff DJ loved. Mel had once asked her if her changes didn't put DJ off. DJ had only looked at her and asked, "Where is the difference?"   
She had then proceeded to tell her aunt that even though she had a new body now, she was still the old Melissa, still liked and hated the same, still had the same dreams and wishes, and DJ saw no reason to treat her differently from before.   
It had surprised and stunned Mel. And it had made her feel warm and grateful as well.   
The door bell chimed and drew her out of her thoughts.   
"Come," she said.   
The door slid aside and revealed the massive, dark form of Nightmare. His red optics held a disapproving look as he saw her. "I thought I told you to get some recharge," he said by ways of a greeting.   
"And hello to you to," she chuckled.   
Nightmare sighed and stopped in front of her. "MJ, you need to recharge. Organic food creates energy, yes, but it burns up too fast."   
Mel evaded his optics, wrapping her arms around herself. She didn't want to. She hated to go off-line. Nightmare placed a large hand on her slender shoulder, forcing her to turn and look at him:   
"I'll be here, if you want to," he said softly. "You won't be alone."   
"It's not that, Nightmare," she told him. "It's..... it's being unconscious for so long. I mean, you have no idea what human sleep is like. You are still feeling, taking in sensations, you wake up now and then, though you do not really become awake, and you go back to sleep. When you wake it is a slow process, not like suddenly going on-line." She inhaled deeply. "It's... frightening."   
Nightmare smiled. "You will be back on-line, Melissa. You will wake."   
"I know that! But still....!"   
"I will be here to make sure nothing happens," the Gatekeeper promised.   
She looked into his deep red optics and sighed softly once more.   
"Trust me," he asked of her.   
"I do," Mel answered. Nightmare was one of the oldest friends she had and she had never trusted anyone more than him. "Thank you."   
He smiled and accompanied her to the recharge chamber. Helping her set up the bed he finally stood back and nodded.   
"Your turn."   
Melissa hesitated once more, then lay back on the bed.   
"Relax," Nightmare said softly.   
She tried. The recharge cycle was starting and her body almost instinctively knew what to do. Her awareness faded and then was totally gone. The last thing she saw were the reassuring red optics of Nightmare.

* * *

A lone figure crept through the twilight of the approaching night. It was only a shadowy outline whisking over the roofs and up or down walls, too fast and too small. But speed and size were no guarantee that electronic eyes wouldn't see him. And night did not have the same meaning as on other planets. Night on Cybertron was simply the absence of the meager light of the tiny sun the metal planet was eclipsing. Work and life continued almost uninterrupted.   
He didn't mind.   
"Here we are," Nikaa muttered as he landed almost noiselessly on the broad roof.   
The roof belonged to a colossal, ancient fortress, almost as old as the planet and one of the oldest buildings totally unscathed by the war. It contained the Cybertronian History Museum, something that had always existed on the planet but had never been overly advertised. Before the war it had been a place to teach and be taught, but throughout the millions of years of war it had been a silent tomb to history. Under the government of the Council the ancient rooms had been reopened and reconstructed, artifacts rediscovered, and in the last two years it had grown to be what it had once been: a place for history to be told.   
Two months ago it had been decided that Cybertron needed some positive events, especially with the results of the Tji war still so obvious and so painful. The museum, always open to the general public, though sparsely visited, had received a valuable collection of new exhibits from one of the allied planets. Their presence on Cybertron was hoped to draw new visitors and change the image of the war-ridden planet to one more positive.   
Nikaa had his doubts but kept his mouth shut. It wasn't his place to comment. He had a job to do and that was why he was here. Now he looked around and discovered the narrow skylight. The entrance. He ran over to it and peered intently at the glass.   
No alarms that I can see, but can't be too careful.   
Security was one of the major factors here. Kup, the Cybertronian chief of security, was overseeing security installations and test personally, driving everyone crazy with his constant demand of absolute perfection. There was no such thing as absolute perfection though, Nikaa knew. Every system had its faults, every program a weakness. All he needed to do was find it.   
He slid the small backpack he was wearing off his shoulders and opened it. Besides his rather plain and simple appearance Nikaa had a vast collection of techno-toys. He came from a planet where the majority of people lived like the nomads, like the Mongols on Earth, dressing in layers of clothes or battle armor, owning vast herds and marrying to each other by blood line and best choices for allies. Still, they had a keen understanding of technology and adapted easily to changing environments. It was one of Nikaa's best traits. As a thief he had to constantly adapt and that quite quickly sometimes.   
Now he slipped on a pair of futuristic goggles and gave the skylight another look. He grinned.   
"Just what I expected....."   
A wall of light beams greeted his enhanced eyes and he shook his head. Primitive. Easy to get by. Under normal circumstances any attempt to bypass these heat sensing beams would be greeted by alarms going off and alerting the guards, but Nikaa was adept at dealing with unusual circumstances. His past thefts had never been easy. If it was easy to steal you wouldn't ask for someone like Nikaa.   
Nikaa worked by abnormal and inventive means, keeping himself updated in the world of security-countermeasures. Not even his stay in the virtual reality of the Game had changed that. He had quite quickly caught up on what he had missed. And then there was the fact that he had known about the light beams' existence and had prepared. It paid off to spend hours cooped up in smoky and disreputable places, asking questions and paying for information.   
The thermal body suit he wore under his layers of clothes and matching hood had been specially crafted by someone he had accidentally run into after he had woken on this strange metal planet. The guy was a master in his area of expertise and though he charged a lot, his work was worth every credit Nikaa had paid. He now pulled the hood over his head, hiding not only his head but also his face. Goggles completed the picture and Nikaa now looked like a giant, black bug. Probes were wired to certain areas of the suit and he checked the setting on the wristwatch he wore. They tracked his rising body temperature. Silently the thief cracked the rather simple lock, well, in his opinion simple lock, of the roof entrance and opened the skylight. It was barely large enough for a human to get through.   
There was no alarm and no one was yelling, so he had not been seen yet. The probes checked the room temperature and when he descended, they kept the suit's temperature just as high, telling the heat sensors that nothing had changed. Stopping briefly to make sure he was still undetected, he slipped through the exhibition rooms.   
The museum was large. Gigantic, to be exact. Well, it had to be, counting the size of the Cybertronians. The air had the usual museum smell, slightly old and dusty. It was strange, but museums everywhere, old or new, had this smell, Nikaa mused with a smile as he checked his surroundings. No one was here, but he heard distant voices. Part of the museum was open for the public, but the north wing, where the new exhibition was located, was still closed. Nikaa wound his way through rooms and hallways, down dimly lit passages and stairways. He ran into a guard once, who he didn't see the organic intruder, and had to pass by a security system twice. No problem so far.   
He had no eyes for the other exhibits. He had seen enough museums in his life and he had been to this particular one before. Nothing of value so far, but that could change the moment someone discovered he was interested in a particular artifact.   
And then he arrived in the North Hall, the one leading directly to the new wing with the exhibition he wanted to visit. He stopped and looked around. Two guards stood left and right of the entrance which had been locked. A large sign proclaimed that behind these doors was the soon-to-be opened Ein'iian exhibition. Neither of them noticed Nikaa. The humanoid snuck past the outer security perimeter and passed by an open room that was currently visited by a couple of people. They never saw him.   
Nikaa crept into a low passageway, a parallel walkway to the main corridor. He moved up a flight of stairs and, looking carefully around before proceeding, walked slowly into a vaulted hall devoted to ancient scrolls. He turned right, passed by the Pre-War Era Hall and descended a sweeping staircase. Buying the map from his contact had been a wise decision. Around here, everything was deserted.   
Noting all the little cameras and sensors he adjusted his suit and kept on walking, slowly and carefully. He would be nothing but a tiny black dot on the screen, too small to be taken immediate notice of, but sooner or later someone might see it. He had to move fast. Finally he was at the back entrance of the exhibition hall, the one used by workers who were even now busy mounting stuff, getting electricity cables connected and securing not only the artifacts but also the countless painting, decorations and parting walls.   
Nikaa watched them and smiled as he heard Kup shout some orders. Well, well, well, the chief of security was present. The whole theft had turned even more thrilling. He waited patiently until he saw an opening and then passed through the door, immediately melting into the shadows. Large metal boards, curtains, black walls, nails, screws and tools lay strewn around, open electrical panels presenting little traps he might fall into. He avoided everything with cat-like ease and walked past the workers who took no notice of him, and the guards who equally seemed to simply ignore the tiny shadow.   
Nikaa passed by the already erected display cases, some of them lit up in brilliant spot lights, crazy patterns dancing on the shadowy ceiling. He stopped in front of a particular display case and looked at the object inside. It was some kind of a scepter or a staff covered with ornaments and stones. It wasn't large and neither was it particularly beautiful in Nikaa's eyes. The staff was a deep black, as if the wood had darkened with age. Someone had carved complicated figures into the staff and adorned it with splinters of red and green stones. On top of it sat an orange-colored stone, which could be a fake or a real  gem, either of which was possible.   
His target.   
Surveying the floor he noticed that everything in the vicinity of the display case appeared neat and clean. The floor didn't show a particle of dust.   
Ah..... Another safety feature.   
His eyes moved around the room and then up. He nodded to himself.   
Suddenly voices could be heard again. Nikaa hissed softly, running for cover, a life-sized statue of some kind of creature. He climbed the fake and cowered down on its top.   
Two workers passed by without seeing him, talking in low voices about work they still needed to do and a too tight time table.   
Nikaa grinned.   
You just work, he thought. I know what work awaits me.   
Using his elevated position he launched a hook that buried itself into the ceiling and secured it. Then he attached himself to the thin rope that was able to carry several times his weight without even straining. Nikaa's body suit had an inbuilt gymnast's safety harness and he now cinched up the pivots, hooked the nylon lines through them and carefully got himself over the display case. He hung in the air like a trapeze artist, using a remote to control the little generator that was attached to the hook and then lowered himself head first so he was eye-level with the glass case where it touched the metal pedestal. He looked like a skydiver suspended in mid-air. His stomach muscles protested but he ignored it.   
Curious, Nikaa read the little card explaining what it was he saw.   
'The scepter of Annikk is part of the Royal Crown Jewels the Ein'ii Clan of the Atraka family. The stones adorning the staff are pieces of colored lava and the stone on the top is a rare kind of gem, which is worthless, but in the myths of Ein'ii believed to hold magical powers.'   
Nikaa shrugged. Just a staff with some mythological background, but it was the object he was here to .... get. The thief got out another high tech tool, placed the small, flat device against the pedestal and activated it. Almost immediately a holographic display appeared and the small machine whirred and clicked. The green display showed him the lock in all detail and how the little 'key' he had was cracking layer after layer.   
Finally it was done. Nikaa smiled briefly. Now came the sensors in the glass-like, transparent casing. He flexed his fingers and went to work.

*

Gryph sat on the highest tower of West Central and watched the night life, wondering if all of this had been such a good idea.   
No, a voice inside her said decisively. Not at all.   
Well, but Optimus had requested Nikaa's help and she was not his baby-sitter to say he wasn't allowed to do whatever he wanted to do. And since it meant doing what he did best....   
Suddenly a smile crossed her lips. Well, he hadn't exactly burst with joy and she knew why. Asking him to steal something could be done two ways: give him money and an interesting job, or order him to do it. Ordering a man like Nikaa was useless. He had laughed at the request and told them to find another stupid idiot to do it.

Gryph shot him a glare. The dark-haired human shrugged it off, as usual.   
"I'm not doing charity work," he told the taller Sentinel.   
"It isn't charity, worm. It's not even a request!"   
Nikaa met her bright green optics. "No."   
"What do you want?" she growled.   
"This isn't about payment, even if you think so. It's about reputation. It's about self-respect. And I lose both if I start checking security systems! That's no work for a professional!"   
Gryph spread her wings. "You are a puny, thieving rat! There is nothing to respect and you are as disreputable as they come!"   
Nikaa shrugged, a mock-modest expression on his face. "Well, I can only do so much...."   
Gryph gave a low, dangerous rumble, small pinpoints of yellow light forming in her optics. "And you will do the job I'm telling you to do!"   
"You can't tell me anything..... ouff!"   
Gryph had transformed lightning fast and now stared at the supine humanoid with barely contained fury. Nikaa was helplessly pinned between the floor and her left claw, gasping. Through their link she felt needles of pain. She didn't mind hurting him just a bit. She would never injure him, but a bruise wasn't serious.   
"You do it or you will never get rid of me," she whispered. "You will do the job."   
Nikaa groaned. "That's extortion!"   
"No, rat, it's an order!"   
She felt his annoyance lance toward her and whipped up a shield, smiling evilly.   
"Okay, okay, okay," he finally wheezed as she increased pressure a bit.

Well, now Nikaa was on his way and Gryph somehow didn't feel all that well about it. He was a thief, it was in his blood..... what else, except for the target, would he try to steal?

*

Nikaa returned to his quarters in West Central, feeling immensely pleased and triumphant. He had done it! Slipped through right under their noses, stolen the scepter, and had gotten out again. Nothing too it! Okay, there had been some tight spots while getting out again, but he had mastered them. He took off his backpack and unwrapped the scepter. The orange gem glittered in the artificial light and the black wood, decorated with ancient script, seemed to be alive, the writing writhing and twisting. Nikaa blinked and the writhing stopped. It was beautiful, it was expensive and ..... well, the money they would pay to get it back......   
Nikaa grinned.   
"You are not keeping it, mouse!" a gruff voice interrupted his train of thoughts.   
Nikaa whirled around and nearly collided with who was behind him.   
"Wear a bell around your neck!" he exclaimed as his racing heart calmed down.   
He hadn't heard her! This oversized chicken was as silent as a hunting predator!   
Gryph fixed her green optics on him. "Now give it to me."   
"What?" There was a completely innocent look on his face, but his brown eyes glinted with  mischief.   
The griffin growled dangerously. "There's only one reason why I haven't devoured you yet, rat!" she hissed.   
Nikaa beamed at her. "Because I'm so lovable?"   
"Because I'd have indigestion for a week!"   
Nikaa laid a hand on his heart, a dramatic look on his face. "Ouch! That hurts, Gwiff! And just when I was getting to like you."   
Gryph's ears twitched, amused, and she looked down on the much smaller humanoid. She  had to confess that she liked Nikaa. He was right about the being lovable part, even though she'd never tell him.   
"The name's Gryph," she growled and held out one taloned paw.   
Nikaa sighed and reluctantly handed the scepter to the Sentinel. She took it and shot him another look. Nikaa refrained from sticking out his tongue. Her ears twitched again and if griffins could smile she came closest to doing so.   
Gryph left the room and Nikaa heard – and somehow also felt – her transform when she was in the sufficiently high enough corridor. Sighing Nikaa let himself fall onto the couch. Well, he had had his adventure. It had been fun.... but the payment was unsatisfactory to say the least.

* * *

"That's it." Kup pushed the last button and the new security system went on-line with a barely audible hum. "All safely locked away again."   
"You said so before and look what happened," Alyngill of the family Pahr said with a sneer.   
"The purpose of this security test was to prevent a real theft, councilor," Optimus Prime told the alien calmly. "Now we have eliminated all weaknesses inside the system."   
The sapphire eyes of the Ein'ii fixed on the taller robot. "It means you had weaknesses and it took a thief to show them to you. This is what I would call sloppy on my home world."   
Kup's optics flared with indignity, but Optimus silenced him with a look.   
"Everything is taken care of now, councilor. I assure you nothing will happen to the crown jewels." He made an inviting gesture for the guest to leave the semi-dark museum halls. Alyngill cast Kup another haughty look and left.   
"Of all the ....." Kup started.   
"Don't work yourself up over this little wanna-be-important," Springer said and clapped Kup on the shoulder. "He has no other hobbies."   
Kup still fumed. How could this creature call his security system sloppy!? He turned and looked at the scepter, now resting securely under the protective display glass. Granted, there had been faults and Nikaa had shown them where. That had been corrected and now everything was as safe as could be. No one would be able to get in or out

* * *

Chimera walked through the exhibition room and shook his head, muttering to himself. Nightfire Dancer watched him, his exasperation disguised behind an inscrutable mask of polite attention.   
"Not right, no, no, no," the old Autobot muttered. He looked at the main attraction of the soon-to-be-opened exhibition and frowned. "No." Finally he turned and cast a long look around the hall. "We will move it."   
Elb, who had just entered and was in the process of unloading some more stuff from a cart he had been pushing, stopped. "What?!" he exclaimed.   
"We will move the exhibition around," Chimera proclaimed. "The whole display is wrong! Prepare all pieces for immediate relocation. I'll handle the scepter personally."   
Elb cast his friend a quizzical look, but Nightfire Dancer simply shrugged. Chimera was the boss.

Two hours later they heard a cry.   
Nightfire Dancer ran to where Chimera had just taken the scepter out of the display case to have it moved. "What's wrong?" he asked, looking around to see if anything had happened.   
"What's wrong?!" Chimera exclaimed. He brandished the scepter. "*This* is wrong! It's fake!"   
Nightfire stared at the relic. "A.... fake?" he stammered.   
"Yes! See the jewel? There is a crack in it!"   
Nightfire continued staring. "But hat's impossible!" he protested. "We checked the scepter when Nikaa returned it! It was the real one!"   
Chimera's normally so dull optics flared with anger. "Then he came back and stole it again! And left this copy."   
"But...!" he stuttered.   
"Call security. We have a thief to arrest!"

* * *

"It worked." The voice sounded satisfied.   
"Of course it worked," another voice replied, smirking.   
"What now?"   
"Now we wait, let things develop naturally. We have time."

* * *

Nikaa was in his quarters, battling a computer program a friend had organized and then sold to him for a minuscule payment. It was complicated, but it was also fun to figure out. A knock echoed through the room and Nikaa frowned, slight annoyance rising inside him. Who could it be at this time of the day? Gryph never knocked, so it couldn't be her. The other Interfaces never visited him here, since Nikaa was rarely home, and they met everywhere else. The Cybertronians never came here either, mainly because of the same problems the Interfaces were facing when trying to find him: he was rarely home. So....?   
Another knock let him sigh and he shut down the program, automatically securing his computer. It was almost instinct to do it, something that was common on his homeworld, especially when working in a job like Nikaa's, and he had never dropped the habit. Then he unlocked and opened the door remotely. He was surprised by who the visitor was.   
"Yes?" he asked.   
Kup looked down at him and Nikaa immediately disliked the expression in his blue optics. Something was wrong.   
"Something the matter?" he wanted to know, his voice casual.   
"I'm here on official business," Kup began. "Chimera just filed a missing item report."   
Nikaa felt dread rise inside of him. Missing....item....   
"I'm hereby placing you under arrest, Nikaa."   
"WHAT?!"   
"The accusation issued is theft of an Ein'iian relic, the scepter of Annik of the Royal Crown Jewels of the Ein'ii," Kup went on, ignoring the outburst. "You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an official hearing in the presence of a legal assistant, and every of your statements will be filed and accessible in a court of law. Do you understand your rights, Nikaa?"   
Nikaa stared at him, open-mouthed.   
"Do you understand your rights?" Kup repeated.   
"Yes," he answered numbly.   
"I ask you to follow me without opposition or I will be forced to secure you," Kup added.   
Nikaa shook his head. This was impossible! He hadn't stolen the scepter! Well, yes, he had, but that had been an official mission to prove the faultiness of the security system! He had given back the same scepter he had stolen!   
"Nikaa?"   
He looked up, still dazed, suppressing his instinct to simply flee. He followed Kup, ignoring the other security guard the Autobot chief of security had brought along. He almost automatically walked after Kup, while the other Autobot stayed behind and secured the room for further investigation.   
This just couldn't be real.....

* * *

They had been here before. Countless times.   
And he had been here before.   
Hook nervously glanced at the read-out monitors, crossing his fingers that this time, finally, the cursed engine would work. He had experienced everything that could happen to an engineer. Misfires, explosions, system break-downs, stress fractures..... the list went on and on. The crowning achievement had been the warp engine jumping without taking the ship along. It had been the most humiliating day of his entire long life. The Constructicons, Grapple, Hoist and Technobots had teamed up and tried to battle the various problems, and today Hook finally believed that it would work.   
"Hook?"   
The dark, grating voice let him flinch and he turned. "Yes, mighty Megatron?"   
"Is the Mainspeed ready?"   
"Yes, mighty Megatron."   
The Decepticon leader walked over to the view screen and nodded at Hook to start the countdown.   
The Mainspeed warmed up her engines and the first data started to flow. Everything was within the set parameters, but Hook knew warm-up and start were the easiest procedures. They had mastered the overheating and melting of the control circuits after the first error messages. The critical point was the jump.   
"Mainspeed approaching jump point," Runamuck announced and the atmosphere in the room was growing thicker with tension.   
Hook had his optics glued to the error read-outs. Still nothing.   
"Jump engines firing."   
He crossed his fingers. Still everything in normal parameters. He saw the energy levels rise, the jump engine drawing on the energon fuel.   
"Mainspeed has initiated jump sequence."   
Everyone's optics were drawn to the screen where the Mainspeed shimmered in a greenish light and then seemed to glide into a kind of miniature wormhole.   
Silence descended on the room.   
The engineers and technicians stared at their screens and then turned to look at Hook.   
"It... jumped," the Constructicon said flatly. "No errors yet."   
"Get it back," Megatron ordered, not allowing himself any feeling of satisfaction or triumph.   
Hook's fingers flew over the command pad. And the Mainspeed complied. A sudden flare of silver and green energy disturbed the blackness on the screen, lighting space for seconds. The phenomenon had the overall look of a part of space getting sucked into a narrow hole, then blown out again. And with it came the Mainspeed.   
Cheers and roars of triumph filled the room. Megatron simply stood at the screen and watched the celebration, his optics glinting.

* * *

Chimera looked at Optimus Prime, his blue optics slightly milky. Prime didn't know if it was a sign of age, since he had never seen it before, or if the optics had always been like this. He knew Chimera from reputation. He had been a fierce and highly-decorated warrior in the wars, one of the few of the first generation still to be alive today. Kup knew him, but Optimus couldn't recall him from anywhere. Well, that might be due to the fact that he had spent considerable time off-line in the Ark on Earth.   
"You examined the scepter when it arrived?" he now asked the curator.   
Prime was curious why the old warrior had chosen such a dull job for his 'retirement years'. Well, dull compared to what he had had before. Kup had never shown any sign of giving up his warrior's life, but from his files Chimera had requested this job.   
"Yes, Prime. It is an extraordinary piece of work and I was honored to be allowed to examine it up close. The scepter isn't anything I've ever laid optics on before. The staff isn't made of wood and the stone at its top isn't any gem I've ever seen either. The structure of the wood is unknown and it is incredibly dense and hard. The stone looks like glass, but it isn't and it's just as hard and dense. "   
"And the one you got back was glass?"   
"No. The one returned to us was the real thing. I examined it myself, as did my assistant, Nightfire Dancer. But what I took out of the case was a fake. The jewel stone was cracked when I examined the scepter once more. I told them right from the start that they should have replaced the real crown jewels with fakes."   
"So fakes exist?" Optimus asked neutrally.   
"No, of course not!"   
"How easy are they to make?"   
Chimera frowned a bit. "Depending on the quality, a few hours to several days, I would presume."   
"And the fake scepter? What quality does it have?" Kup now asked.   
"A rather inferior one. I mean, the glass stone cracked....!"   
Optimus glanced at Kup and the security chief returned the look.   
"Don't you think it's strange that a highly-skilled thief like Nikaa would substitute an inferior fake for the real scepter, return to his quarters, hand it over to his Interface partner and then wait until we come to arrest him?" Optimus asked, voice still neutral. "That he would actually break in again, through an improved security system?"   
Chimera shrugged. "Who knows how a criminal mind works?"   
Optimus fixed the milky blue optics, then nodded. "Thank you, Chimera."   
The old robot and curator rose, leaving. When the door had closed after him, Kup allowed his face to crease into a frown. "Something is not right," he muttered. "But I can't put my finger on it!"   
Optimus nodded.   
"I mean, Nikaa tested the system, right. We ran three checks after we updated it and found no loophole." Kup shook his head. "No one, of any size, could have gotten in."   
"What about energy beings?" Optimus wanted to know, looking thoughtfully at the dark computer screen.   
"You mean Tji? Hm...." Kup tapped his chin. "Not to my knowledge. They are energy beings and passing through the secured walls would have set off the overload detector. The recordings from all sensors and the cameras are negative. No one and nothing entered since we brought the scepter back."   
The Autobot leader continued staring at the empty screen. "And while moving it?"   
Kup's optics flashed. "I was present while we moved the thing. Only security was allowed in or out. And Chimera. He handled the scepter."   
Optimus nodded, a strange expression in his optics.   
"Prime! You don't want to imply...." Kup exclaimed.   
Optimus shook his head. "I'm not implying anything, Kup. I'm just theorizing. The security was fool-proved and airtight. No one could have gotten in or out, but someone did and this someone had access. You are the only one with access to all security codes, the others have only those necessary for their work area. The only time the scepter was accessible was while it was placed inside the display."   
"So we have several suspects. Chimera, Nightfire Dancer, Nikaa and me," Kup said.   
Prime's optics finally met his. "I'm not suspecting you, Kup."   
"But it is a logical choice, Prime," Kup told him with a smile. "I could have done it."   
Optimus nodded slowly. "But I don't think you did it. And neither did Nikaa."   
"But what would anyone get out of exchanging the staff? Chimera and Nightfire Dancer are Cybertronians. Why would they steal this relic?" Kup asked.   
"I don't know. I only know what this did to the Ein'ii. Kall is losing face and the trust of his people, the royal council is in uproar at the outrageous theft, blaming Kall's family and also us."   
"And they come up with a scapegoat and a good story," Kup said thoughtfully.   
Optimus nodded slowly. "Nikaa."   
"Most likely."   
The Autobot leader sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "But how? And who stole the scepter? Who made the fake?"   
"That's what I will find out," Kup promised and left.   
Optimus went back to staring at the computer screen, deep in thought.

* * *

The prison cell was small and certainly had never been designed for Cybertronians, Nikaa noticed with a grimace. Well, with humans and other aliens coming to Strata-Mainframe and crime, though way below average for a town, still happening, the police and security force had had to build humanoid-sized prisons. Well, cells. This wasn't even a prison. It was a detention cell where criminals were kept until questioning. They had questioned him already and Nikaa had no high hopes anyone would come any time soon to talk to him again.   
Pacing the small confines of the room he tried to make sense of what had happened, trying to take his mind of the pressing fact that he was in a prison. He stopped and bit his lower lip.   
No, no, no, he thought desperately. He wouldn't start again. He was past that! It had happened a long time ago and he had worked through it.   
A dank cell.   
A dark room.   
Torch light outside.   
No bed, only a mattress on the floor, smelly and shredded.   
The dark-haired thief stumbled a bit and his hands curled into fists. Memories were coming back unbidden and they were coming back with a vengeance.   
He had been guilty of the crime.   
He had done it. He had stolen.   
What did they expect of Nikaa? He was a thief, the best, the only one to pull such a thing off!   
Betrayal, extortion.... death.   
Nikaa moaned and sank down on the floor, curling into a misery-ridden ball.   
He had to get out of this room!   
He wasn't claustrophobic. He, a thief and spy, was used to crawling around dark tunnels, through narrow openings, sitting and waiting in the smallest place until he was alone and had time to strike. No, he wasn't afraid of small rooms. He was just ....   
He bit his lip hard and tasted blood.   
He was afraid of prisons.   
Someone hearing this now would have told him that prison is what awaits thieves. Of course it was. It was punishment, correct punishment, but not for him. He had always evaded punishment. No one had ever caught him. No one except....   
Whip-lashes. Questions. Promises of freedom if he talked.   
But he hadn't done it! He hadn't killed the guard! Stolen the jewel, yes. Killed, no. Nikaa had never killed anyone before, not even in the most dangerous situations..... He had been set up for this. And he had been punished, spent days in the small cell, had been questioned over and over again. He had not broken, he had not talked. Somehow he had made it out of there. Somehow....  Nikaa could no longer remember what had happened then, how he had gotten to the tent he had woken up in. He only remembered the face of the one who had given him food and a horse. He had never seen her again and though he couldn't really relate to love at first sight, her face had ignited a feeling like this.   
And this face was what he called upon now.   
"Help me," he whispered.   
He desperately tried to guide his brain back to the problem he had aside from being locked up. Someone had exchanged the scepter and now he was framed for it. Someone must have done it before he had stolen it. Okay, so who had access to the scepter except for the curator and the guy who had guarded it until then?   
Thoughts slipped past him and fear rose like the magma level inside a volcano ready to blow. Nikaa trembled ever so slightly. He had to get out of here!

Gryph was torn between anger and denial. She didn't believe that Nikaa had exchanged the scepter. Stolen, yes. It had been the deal. He had proven the security system to be faulty and he had walked out of the museum with the scepter unhindered. He had returned to West Central and handed it over. She had felt his triumph, his mental smirk, his satisfaction of having fulfilled what he had been sent out to do. There had been no hidden intentions, no betrayal. He was a thief, yes, he stole. He stole and he sold the goods, but he had never done anything as big as this. If the real scepter did not reappear, if no one found it, it meant immense consequences for the family of the Atrakar.   
Gryph frowned. She shook those thoughts off. Right now her Interface partner was more important. She wouldn't involve herself in family feuds and troubles. Well, maybe she had to. The female Sentinel sighed deeply.   
Nikaa was in prison, everyone was searching for the scepter in all his hiding places, which she had told them because she knew exactly where the little mouse always hid out, and the diplomats were trying to calm each other's frayed nerves.   
Suddenly a wave of blind panic hit her. She had to sit down abruptly, her tail lashing out and missing a decorative arrangement of crystal growths by a mere inch. Her optics flared and she hissed as a migraine-like headache followed the attack.   
"Nikaa!"   
She was out of her quarters and running down the corridor in her alternate mode within a second. Her mind reached out for her partner's, something she had never done before except to chastise him when he was hatching thoughts of another theft. They had never really communicated through the link, mainly because he already drove her nuts vocally. If she had to endure his sharp, witty mind on an Interface level she'd probably disembowel him right away. But now all those thoughts were very far away as she transformed, spread her wings, launched herself into the air and flew as fast as was possible toward the far end of the north-east wing of West Central.   
Using her smaller griffin form she raced down the corridor and finally arrived in the holding area. Two guards looked warily at her.   
"Let me pass!" she demanded. "I want to talk to Nikaa."   
"We have no clearance...." one began and was silenced by the green stare.   
"He is my Interface partner and I want to talk to him. You think I want to free him? Would I ask you to let me in if I wanted to?" she asked sharply. "I could tear you apart and you wouldn't even have time to realize it! Now let me pass!"   
"Uhm, Kup needs to know," the second one told her.   
"Then call him!"   
Minutes passed and they were like an eternity as the guard went over to the com console and dialed the security chief's number. Gryph could feel her partner's panic spread and she desperately wanted to reach out and calm him, but she had never done it before and she might harm him more than help, she told herself.   
Finally the guard came back. "Kup said he will allow your visit."   
"Well, how gracious of him! Now open that door!"   
Gryph was past the door and down the corridor before it was fully open. She came to stop in front of the only occupied cell and felt her oxygen-pump constrict. Nikaa sat as a curled-up heap in the farthest corner of the room and was shaking badly. He made no sound, but what his mind was projecting was noise enough. She caught frayed-edge images of dark prison cells, of punishment, of pain and whips.....   
"Nikaa?" she asked carefully.   
The small form trembled violently, but did not make any move to rise.   
More images came. Betrayal by the one he had trusted, his innocence..... he hadn't done it! She blinked. The pictures coming with the memories were not of the scepter but of a jewel and a murder. They were not connected to a museum, just to a throne room.   
"Nikaa," she whispered.   
"No," he moaned, a suffering sound that made her wince deep down inside.   
They had never been really close, or so she had told herself over and over. She hated the little mouse and his constant 'adventures'. She despised being linked to him. It wasn't the Interface she didn't accept; it was the partner the strange device inside her had chosen to be forever linked to her. Nikaa was no one anyone in his right state of mind would want to hang around constantly, and being mentally linked....   
But now....   
She bit her lip. He was vulnerable and suffering, the total opposite to his usual cocky self. His shields were down, as were his masks, and he was in need of help. A friend's help. Gryph was that friend.   
The Sentinel gave the lock a quick once-over and then simply deactivated the bars of energy keeping her from her partner. She couldn't care less whether or not she broke any rules or laws with it.   
"Nikaa," she repeated, her large form looming over him.   
He lifted his head and she winced again as she looked into his liquid brown eyes. They were windows to his soul and his soul was torn and in pain.   
"Can't stay here," he whispered. "Need to get out!"   
Panic assailed her again and she got a better picture of why he was suddenly breaking down. Nikaa was a strong person, someone not easily intimidated by anything, even a much larger robot with sharp talons. He had mastered a lot of difficult situations, but right now he was close to snapping.   
Afraid of prisons.   
Nightmarish memories.   
Gryph shook her head. He had been tortured and he had told them the truth. He had not done it, but they had not believed him. They had nearly killed him.....   
The griffin lay down beside the shaking humanoid and nudged him gently with her beak.   
"It's going to be all right. You will not stay here." She curled her tail protectively around him.   
"Can't..... need....out...." he whispered. "Now!"   
"Not yet."   
"I didn't do it!" he told her, eyes squeezed shut.   
"Can you prove it?"   
Nikaa opened his eyes and betrayal showed in them, and disbelief. "I thought at least you...." He shook his head and tried to get to his feet, stumbling away until her outstretched wing stopped him.   
Gryph lowered her head again, not letting him fight past the feathered obstacle. "You are a thief, Nikaa. You seek the opportunity and don't tell me this wasn't a really big opportunity."   
He whirled around, nearly losing his balance, glaring. "This is how you think of me?! That I wouldn't even have so much honor in me to fulfill what I was sent to do without twisting it? Yes, I stole the scepter! But I didn't exchange it for a fake! I did what was asked of me! I proved the system was faulty! Now I'm framed for something I didn't do!"   
Tears showed in his eyes, tears of anger. He tried to push past again but she wouldn't let him.   
"I know you have honor. You operate on honor, Nikaa. But you also operate on your thief's instincts."   
"No!"   
"Did you steal it?"   
<No!>   
It was like a blow with a sledge hammer between the optics. Gryph blinked. "Then show me," she whispered, a plan forming in her mind.   
"What?"   
"You know what I mean. We are linked. I can know what you know."   
Nikaa swallowed nervously. "I thought we had an agreement!"   
She met his frightened, dark brown eyes. "You want to get out of here?"   
He drew a shaky breath. "Not like this...."   
"It's your only chance."   
Panic and fear mixed into an explosive cocktail. Nikaa was torn between his fierce desperation to keep his life private and the need to leave the prison. Finally the fear of prisons won. He nodded.   
Gryph used her wings to push him closer. "I won't spy on you, Nikaa. Give me that much credit."   
Her unusual soft voice made his head come up. She used his confusion to probe the link and encountered his severely weakened and cracked shields; shields that had never kept her from at least pushing him past a valuable object and further along.   
Their minds connected.   
He stumbled and she caught him.   
Nikaa gasped softly, then had to sit down.   
Gryph felt his past come up to meet her and was overwhelmed by the power of some of the memories.   
And then she was in.   
The world turned into a maelstrom.

* * *

Melissa walked aimlessly around the West Central plaza, a public place, a place of water, light and soft landscapes. The hydroponics team that had created the green areas of Below had done a masterpiece with this. There were fountains, trees, lawns, crystal ornaments, art work from different worlds..... it was a calm and quiet place, even though hundreds of people milled here, alien and Cybertronian alike. And she was both: a Cybertronian and an alien.   
She sat down with a sigh and watched the play of the fountain. Recharge had been half as bad as she had expected, but it was still too far from sleeping or eating for her to say she could get used to it in a flash. Nightmare had been there when she had 'woken'. She was grateful for the time, energy, effort and patience he had. Of course he was a friend, but he wasn't a shrink or someone trained in the art of counseling. Mel smiled wryly. She was and she was the one who needed this help, but was unable to accept it from the regular sources, from other trained psychologists. She could accept a friend, but not a professional. She knew better because she had handled cases like herself in the past, her old past, and it was contradictory for her to reject it now. Still, looking at either a Cybertronian or a human counselor brought up her defenses.   
I'm a wreck, she thought darkly. I belong nowhere, I have nowhere to go, and I can't accept their help. They have no idea what to do with me and I have no idea what to do with myself either.   
Mel looked into the moving water, the tiny droplets sparkling in the artificial light as they cascaded down into the basin, mixing with the water they had come from.   
She had to get a life.   
Somehow.   
Somewhere.   
Among those she had come from.

* * *

"I examined the scepter most meticulously," Perceptor said, looking at Kup. "The staff contains a high amount of non-corrosive metals that...."   
Kup held up a hand. "I'm not interested in metallurgy, Perceptor, only whether or not that thing is a good fake or not."   
Perceptor sighed softly, used to being rudely interrupted and not allowed to give a complete report. "It is, as you might want to put it, an almost perfect fake. The skill displayed in creating the staff is enormous and a casual examination wouldn't reveal its origin."   
"And a closer inspection?"   
"Only if you know you are looking at a fake," the scientist answered. "I had pictures from the Ein'ii files and I have to confess whoever made the staff, he is a master."   
"What about the stone?"   
"That is what is puzzling me. The stone is a cheap glass imitation. The cut is wrong, the color is faded and blotchy, and the crack...." Perceptor shook his head. "Inferior quality through and through."   
Kup looked at the fake with a frown. "It doesn't fit," he mumbled. "Someone creates an almost perfect copy of the staff but uses a cheap gem stone. Why?"   
"I cannot answer that question."   
Kup still frowned. "Weird. Almost as if they wanted ti to be discovered." He took the scepter and nodded a thank you at Perceptor.

* * *

"He didn't do it."   
The statement hung in the air and Kup shot the female Sentinel a mocking look.   
"Oh? Because Interface partners can't commit crimes?"   
The glare she sent his way was strong enough to melt steel. "I saw it in his mind. He can't lie on the level of an Interface link. Nikaa did not exchange the real scepter for the forged one."   
Kup scowled at her. "I can't release him on the basis of a telepathic link! He is still a criminal!"   
"True," she conceded. "But he did not commit this crime."   
Kup shook his head. "Not good enough. How can I know this is not some clever trick he plays on us to get free? How can I be sure you aren't involved?" he asked provocatively.   
Gryph's wings twitched with barely restrained anger. "What?" she asked, voice as calm as before a thunder storm.   
Midnight, who had been a silent watcher throughout this, stepped forward. "Kup," he said softly.   
The old robot turned to him. "You believe her?"   
"Yes. I believe she was not involved. As for the link, you have to believe that there are no lies on an Interface level. She saw the truth and I believe she saw his innocence."   
Kup rumbled something. "What if he used you, eh? What if he can hide it?"   
"He can't. I saw it all."   
Midnight frowned slightly, hearing the tremor in Gryph's voice. Yes, she had seen his innocence.... and something else.   
"I can't let him out on just a word of confidence," Kup insisted.   
"He will die in the cell if you won't!" Gryph growled.   
Midnight shot her an odd look.   
"What?" Kup demanded.   
She pulled herself together. "Assign him a tracking device or a guard, but let him out!"   
He frowned.   
"One of the other Interfaces can watch him," Midnight volunteered.   
Gryph shot him an acid look. He gave her a smile.   
Kup's frown deepened. He didn't like it.   
"Please," Gryph hissed through clenched teeth, the word taking a lot of control out of her.   
"All right," he finally told them. "One false move and he is back inside! He gets a tracing device and he won't leave West Central under any circumstances! Not even if the damned planet goes up in a fire cracker! Understood? You are responsible for his actions, Gryph! He is still the main suspect!"   
She nodded. "I understand." With that she transformed and left.   
"You played a dangerous game, Kup," Midnight remarked casually.   
The old robot shot the Sentinel leader a smile. "The only way to be sure."   
"And the only sure way to get shredded."   
Kup smiled even more. "The dangers of being head of security. I needed to know how close they are and how far she'd go."   
"To hell and back."   
"Exactly. I can accept her claims now. She is Interfaced and not just pretending."   
Midnight nodded. "Keep me posted. I'll keep an optic on her."   
"Will do."   
Midnight left the room as well, deep in thought.

* * *

Nikaa had never felt so relieved in all his life. He was out of the cell, still a prisoner, but no longer locked up. He didn't mind the device around his wrist, the tracer – something that would blow if he removed it by force.   
A shadow fell over him and he didn't need to turn around to know who was behind him. His mind struggled with sharp and probably hurtful remarks and finally finished its track in front of one word.   
"Thanks," he whispered, his voice barely audible.   
A beak lowered itself to his shoulder height. A mocking, green optic glinted. "Say it a bit louder, mouse. I couldn't hear you."   
Anger rose inside him and with it the last of his unexpressed fear of prisons. It exploded into an outburst of rage no one had ever experienced from Nikaa before.   
"You want me to write it on the walls of West Central?!" he demanded. "Make a public announcement out of it? Want me to wax your feathers so you can polish your image as well? Okay! I'll do it! You can tell everyone what a hero you are and what scum I am! Why did you free me anyway? Afraid I might ruin your reputation? Was it that? Or do you want me to grovel and promise you eternal service?"   
Gryph looked at him, stunned. His reaction had been one of true anger and hurt. He was projecting it at her full force, but then again: it wasn't her he was angry it. It was himself and whoever had framed him.   
"I'm sorry," she said and she meant it. She had learned a lot about the humanoid who was her eternal partner in mind. She had never really bothered to get to know him, too busy with her own anger at the world in general, but now she had seen his mind, had tasted his past, and she knew......   
She had seen it.   
She had suffered it.   
"I didn't mean to hurt you," she went on, voice unusual soft. The harsh edge she cultivated gone.   
Nikaa was shaking and finally he whirled around and walked away. Anger radiated off him like a beacon.   
<Nikaa?>   
He stopped, hands clenched into fists.   
<I know> she whispered.   
<You had no right!>   
<It happened. Now I know and I can't reverse it. I can't erase the knowledge> Gryph closed the distance and sat down in front of him, wings hugging her body. <And I know you now, Nikaa, second son of Ghlanadra and Ntion. I know you are innocent and someone else did it> She smiled at his defiant proud look. <Want to help catch the guy?>   
He stared at her, not believing what he heard. "What?" he croaked.   
<You heard me right. Well?>   
Nikaa was dumbfound. Finally he nodded and Gryph rose with a satisfied smile. "Then let's get you a nice shower, some new clothes and start working on the problem!"   
"Uhm, okay..... by the way: who is my bodyguard?" Nikaa asked.   
Gryph shrugged. "We'll find out when the High and Mighty have chosen."

* * *

Melissa wandered aimlessly around the complex, wishing she had something, *anything*, to do. First Aid had sent her on leave until she was sure she really wanted to go back counseling, and she knew she wasn't ready for it yet. She was too messed up herself to help others, and the risk that she might break down while counseling or after a session was around fifty percent. Not good. Not good at all! But still, she needed something to occupy her mind or she would never get past it all.   
Suddenly she discovered Optimus Prime as he walked into his quarters, a deep frown adorning his visible face. Something was wrong, she immediately decided. He was worried and he was trying to find a solution. She had seen this expression on his face often enough, even though he always tried to hide it. To someone who was either trained in the matters or knew him very well, like Rodimus Prime, it was more than obvious still. Mel inhaled deeply and walked over to the office door, making up her mind as to what to do.   
"Yes?" Prime's voice called as she knocked and the door slid open. "Hello, Mel," he greeted her and there was a mild smile in his optics. "How can I help you?"   
Mel weighed her words carefully. "I'm looking for a way to make myself useful," she began. "Since First Aid decided that my old job will be out of the question for now, I thought you might need someone to help you out, assist you in something?"   
He met her serious optics. "I'm not sure there is anything you can help me with, Mel. You are a psychologist, a therapist...."   
"And I can help with those problems a warrior or security officer can't," she stated calmly.   
Optimus gave her another look. Mel restrained herself from simply scanning him empathically. There was an unspoken agreement that she would never use her powers to get a sneak into another's condition or feelings. She respected that. Suddenly there was knock on the door and Kup came in without even waiting for Optimus to say something.   
"Sentinels!" he exclaimed. "Nothing but trouble!" He stopped as he became aware of Mel. "Oh, hello, Mel."   
Mel nodded at him.   
Optimus shot Kup an inquisitive look. "What is it, Kup?"   
"I'm trying to find someone who won't get ripped apart by this female fury, and it's proving to be a problem!"   
"You asked Midnight?"   
"Yes. The only Interface partners we have are Jeff Winters, Tiriga and Kyle Scott. Kyle is on call for medical emergencies for the next twenty-four hours, Tiriga needs a water tank and Jeff is Interfaced to the one Sentinel Gryph hates."   
Optimus frowned and Mel's ears perked up. "That could prove to be difficult," he muttered.   
"What do you need them for?" Mel asked.   
"Keeping an eye on Nikaa," Kup sighed.   
"Something wrong?" She looked at Optimus, raising a metal eyebrow.   
Prime sighed and finally gave her brief version of what had happened.   
"And now you need a baby-sitter?" Mel asked neutrally.   
He nodded, grateful she didn't inquire further into the theft business.   
"I volunteer."   
"What?" Kup exclaimed.   
"I said I volunteer for the job. I'm not a Sentinel, true, and Gryph doesn't know me, but I'm suited for the job, am I not?"   
The two Autobots exchanged a look, Optimus looking as doubtful as Kup. "Mel, I'm not sure...."   
"But I am," she interrupted firmly. "Optimus, I need a life and my old one doesn't fit this body anymore. And to get a new life I need something to do! What's so hard about keeping an eye on Nikaa?"   
"Did you ever meet him?" Kup asked flatly.   
"No."   
"Ah."   
Mel frowned. "What is it about him?"   
"Nothing, except that he is a slippery thieving weasel who strips you of everything you haven't welded, fused, nailed or stapled to your body parts!"   
She smiled at Kup's description. "Sounds like a challenge then."   
"Mel, please," Optimus tried again.   
"You think I'm not qualified?"   
"No...."   
"You think I can't handle him?"   
"No, not really...."   
"Then what? Is it my metamorphosis?"   
Optimus' silence was answer enough. Mel sighed deeply.   
"I think she would be a good choice, Prime," Kup suddenly supported her. It earned him a surprised expression from Optimus.   
"Fine," the Autobot leader decided after a time of silence. "If you volunteer, you get the job, Melissa," he told her.   
"Thank you."

* * *

The tall Ein'ii walked down the corridor to the office wing. He was closely followed by an entourage of guards, personal advisors and two Autobot security guards. Alyngill ignored everyone and everything, striding to the office of the one he wanted to see: Optimus Prime. There was a slightly triumphant gleam in his eyes.

*

"Death?" Optimus echoed, numbness spreading inside him.   
"Yes," the Ein'ii told him with a self-satisfied smile. "Death. The sentence for stealing the crown jewels is the highest one possible."   
"Will Nikaa get a trial?" Optimus asked, his voice betraying nothing he felt right now.   
"Of course, but it will only enforce what we already know will be the result."   
"You don't know whether or not he is guilty," the Autobot leader reminded the alien.   
"He stole the scepter and replaced it with a fake. We all know that." Alyngill's eyes were hard and unrelenting. "He will be tried and found guilty."   
"But if you kill him, you will also kill a Sentinel... one of Cybertronian kind," Midnight suddenly spoke up.   
Alyngill frowned. "You are talking about 'Interfacing', correct? Well, I do not believe in this hocus-pocus. It's only one of your lies to prevent extortion."   
Midnight's visor flared briefly. "Let me assure you that it is not," he said coolly.   
"Then show me proof."   
The smile on the Sentinel's lips would have impressed a glacier. "Gladly."   
"But it won't change the extortion treaty," Alyngill added.   
"The crime was committed on Cybertron," Kup spoke up. "Therefore Cybertronian law is valid."   
"The crime might have been committed on Cybertron, but it was done by an off-worlder and it concerns Ein'iian property and law!" Alyngill told him forcefully. "Therefore our laws apply and you must hand over the thief."   
"It isn't proven that Nikaa stole the scepter," Optimus corrected the Ein'ii calmly.   
Alyngill looked ready to blow. "The probable thief then," he hissed.   
"Nikaa is no off-worlder," Midnight said into the brief silence. "He Interfaced with a Cybertronian Sentinel and has become Cybertronian."   
Alyngill's eyes could have melted steel. "You like to twist this Interfacing lie to fit your purposes, right? Well, I will look into it and I will examine the laws. And I can tell you already that you won't like what I find." He whirled around and left.   
The three robots looked at each other.   
"I'm pretty sure I won't like what he finds," Kup muttered. "This guy is as slippery as a R'tguan snail!"   
"And there isn't much scientific proof on Interfacing," Midnight sighed. "How do you prove a mental bond?"   
"At least it gives us and Nikaa some time. Where is he, by the way?"   
Kup got out a small device and switched it on. "Following the tracer he is in his quarters."   
"Okay. We need to talk to him – and Gryph."

* * *

Gryph watched Nikaa as he paced through her quarters, his forehead carved into a frown. He had taken a shower, had changed into fresh clothes and shaven. Gryph had not left the Cybertronian sized room for a moment. Nikaa had been silent for a long time now. It made Gryph as uncomfortable as when he was being flippant. She could sense the fear and terror emitting from the humanoid in small ripples. He tried to suppress those feelings, but was unable to do so completely. The mind-phase had upset him, the memories that had been freed, the one from his past, were troubling him.   
There was a certain vulnerability in those dark eyes she found somewhat appealing. She felt protective towards him because of this vulnerability he tried to hide so hard and it made her even more uncomfortable. It wasn't that Gryph hated organics, but she was never comfortable around them. A human body was so fragile and soft. Having to protect an Interface partner, especially someone like Nikaa, had appeared somewhat like punishment of the deities to her at first. Now she wasn't so sure any longer. She was a Sentinel; Sentinels Interfaced. It was their way of dealing with something that had been a weapon before, something they were feared for. Nikaa was a challenge, not just because of his defiance and ready mouth.   
She enjoyed it......   
Suddenly there was a soft knock on the door.   
"Yes!" she snapped and the word seemed to shatter the silence into a myriad fragments, raining down on them like glass shards.   
The door opened and revealed their visitor. Gryph's optics narrowed and she tensed. She had no clue who the stranger was. She was female, but she wasn't Cybertronian, so much was for sure. But that's where it stopped.   
"Who are you?" Gryph demanded harshly.   
The rather disturbing black optics of the female met hers. Gryph suppressed a shudder. The darkness in the optics seemed to flow, to ooze behind the transparent covers, and tiny silver specks floated in them.   
"My name is Melissa," the female said. "I think you were expecting me?"   
The voice was calm, almost soothing, and the female's whole manners were as well.   
Gryph remembered the call from Optimus Prime and that they were sending Nikaa's 'nanny' over, someone 'neutral'. The Ein'ii had heard of Nikaa's release from the cell and had first complained, then demanded a guard be placed where he was. Gryph had expected a human, maybe even a Sentinel, but not ....this.   
"You are the guard?" she asked suspiciously.   
Melissa smiled. "Yes."   
Gryph's narrowed optics held hers. "I have never seen you before. What are you? Sentinel?"   
Melissa shook her head. "No. I'm .... was... I don't know. I'm neither Cybertronian nor human, but I can be good company, that's why I chose to volunteer."   
The Sentinel didn't like it. She had no idea who this stranger was and she was giving her the creeps!   
<It'll be all right> Nikaa's tired voice told her. <Just bugger off, okay? Leave me alone and mind your own business>   
Gryph glowered at her Interface but it had no effect. "I'll have to talk with the Autobot about it," she growled.   
Nikaa sighed as she left and then looked up the tall form in front of him. She was not as tall as many robots. "So, Melissa.... you aren't a robot?" he then asked.   
"No, and call me Mel." She sat down on the floor and crossed her legs. "And you aren't human." She smiled.   
Nikaa grinned. "You volunteered to baby-sit me?"   
"Kinda."   
"Why?"   
"Because I had nothing better to do," Mel answered calmly.   
Nikaa was silent for a minute, meeting those strange optics. She was telling the truth. She had had nothing better to do.... Weird. Just as weird as she was.   
"So, you in for a game or something?"   
Mel tilted her head. "What kind of game?"   
Nikaa shrugged. "Anything to pass the time."

* * *

Skywolf sighed heavily and sat back, shaking his head. Jill, his Interface partner, walked over and one look at his expression told her more than any question. He was frustrated. Their link didn't let much of it through, mainly because Wolf, as a scientist, usually shielded himself when working.   
"It's impossible," he now sighed. "I can't prove the Interface connection! How should I do it anyway?" He threw his hands up in the air. "It's something like a telepathic link. How do you prove telepathy? ESP tests won't work and I can't give the Ein'ii the data about the SC devices in our chests. They won't believe that either."   
Jill nodded slowly. "But what now? We knew we couldn't prove Interfacing to them."   
"Well, we need more time, so I'm going to give them all the techno-babble scripts I can find, add a few more flavors, and wait for them to make sense of it." He grinned.   
Jill chuckled. "Well, it might give us a few hours, but still... what then?"   
He grew serious. "I don't know, Jill. I really don't know."

* * *

Time passed quickly. Nikaa had introduced Mel to some kind of card game they used to play on his home world and it was not far away from Poker. While they shuffled cards and played, Mel watched her protégé. Nikaa was, in her human perception, a very attractive young man, though not human. He would pass as one, granted. He had a naturally dark tanned skin, very dark brown hair that was slightly longer in the neck, and the eyes were of a liquid brown. She couldn't guess his age.   
Neither of them noticed that they had been playing for three hours when someone knocked. Mel rose in one fluid motion and opened the door. Kup and Optimus Prime were standing in front of the quarters and she let them in, casting a quizzical glance at the Autobot leader. Prime only looked at Nikaa.   
"I had a visit by Alyngill ghu en' Pahr," he said calmly, voice grave. "He wants you to be tried back on his home planet for thievery."   
"What?" Nikaa exclaimed.   
"And the sentence is already set. It is death."   
The humanoid paled rapidly and Mel noticed a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. "No....." he managed. "I ... I won't go. You can't make me! I'll request asylum!"   
Optimus sighed. "It's not as easy as that."   
"Why? And what about Gryph?! You would kill her as well if you let them take me back! It's murder!"   
"We are currently trying to convince Alyngill that he would murder a Cybertronian if he goes through with his demands. He said he wants proof of the Interface and you know how hard that is to come by. We can't scientifically prove an Interface," Optimus explained and Mel noticed how hard it was for him to say this.   
"I'm innocent!" Nikaa protested. "I didn't do it! You know it!"   
"But you are still the main suspect until we have more facts."   
"What happened to innocent until proven guilty?"   
Kup shook his head. "The Ein'ii work by a different justice system. Alyngill is convinced you did it and he is in the position to press the point."   
"So what does it tell you?" Nikaa demanded. "He is in on this scheme up to his ugly face! Why don't you investigate him for a change?!" Anger radiated off him like a bright light and Mel didn't have to be empathic to feel it. "What happens when Kall can't present the scepter back home?"   
"That's what we are looking into," Kup assured him.   
Nikaa only snorted. "So what now? You going to hand me over just like that?"   
"No one will 'hand you over', Nikaa," Optimus assured him. "We wanted you to know what's at risk here. Currently we are on a hold concerning their demands until we have proof of the Interface or Alyngill turns it down."   
The thief mumbled something under his breath and walked deeper into his quarters. Mel only nodded at Optimus that she would take care of him and the Autobot leader gave her a nod in return, leaving with Kup in tow. When the door had closed she walked over to where Nikaa had slumped onto a chair, drawn his knees up and was staring at the remaining card game. She sat down beside him, silent, waiting for him to make the first move.   
"They can't do this," Nikaa finally whispered.   
"Do what?"   
"Kill Gryph," he answered almost flatly.   
"I thought you were the one sentenced to death even before the end of the trial."   
He gave a harsh laugh. "Gryph is Interfaced with me. She would feel my death, she would die as well. And if she survives.... part of her will still die, part of her soul. My part."   
Mel's dark eyes held his. "You know a lot about the effects of Interfacing for someone who is still at odds with his partner and whose partner refuses to acknowledge you as her Interface."   
Nikaa gave her a humorless smile. "I'm not stupid, Mel. I know what an Interface is and I know how tightly Gryph's mind and soul are bonded to mine. We don't agree on most things. We fight, we go on each other's nerves, but we are Interfaced. Kill one and you kill or partially kill the other. And with her... I think she would die."   
Mel knew that as well. She knew it only too well. "So what do you want to do about it?"

* * *

Gryph sat on the hard ground and stared into the night. She was alone. A soft breeze blew over the land. The artificial moon's light lit the plains below her and played across her fur-and-feather animal mode. She was worried.   
"Gryph?"   
She turned her eagle's head and discovered a strange and bizarre shape at her side.   
"Claw," she acknowledged his presence and turned back.   
"You are worried," Claw said.   
Gryph looked at him again. "No."   
The other Sentinel laughed softly. "Liar. You like him, don't you?"   
"He is a ....pest."   
"Oh, yes. But he is your Interface partner and the Interface has never chosen wrongly." He grinned broadly, clearly amused. It was not a pretty sight to someone who had never seen Claw grin before.   
No one knew where Claw and his Interface Tiriga spent their days. They were exploring, they read through the files in the library, they did ... whatever they wanted to. Now and then Claw resurfaced, and like a moth to the light he was drawn to Gryph – as if he was sensing she needed an old friend to talk to.   
"He is alone out there," Gryph suddenly said. "No one believes us..... The Ein'ii want his death. I know he didn't do it, Claw."   
"We have to wait. Right now there is nothing you can do aside from what you have already done."   
Gryph snorted. "I hate that!"   
"I know. But we can't change it. He is alone for now."

* * *

"These are the production plans for a full-sized warp engine," Grapple said with an audible amount of pride and laid out the blueprints in front of Megatron and Optimus Prime, aware of their optics resting on him. "We can start production within a month and the plans for the ship as such are already in the ship yards. All we need is your go."   
Optimus studied the plans thoughtfully. "The production of this one single engine will take up a lot of manpower, a lot of energon reserves, and we still haven't finished all tests with the Mainspeed," he said. "Our test pilots are only now getting a briefing on the system and building a full scale model.... it is risky."   
"But the only way, Prime!" Grapple argued. "If we go up a notch we still don't know if the real thing can do it. You know how test flying goes: we build the full scale version, put it on the test beds and shake it to pieces. We find out where the weaknesses are. Then we build the second model and run the fatigue tests. We find out when the metal loses its strength, gets brittle. We simulate warp jumps over and over again to see when the hull breaks, when the engine fails, when the warp cells melt. The Mainspeed was only an engine test ship that actually delivered more data than we needed for the frame."   
Megatron crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Diverting power for a full model means vulnerability. We still have to restore the battle fleet and the planet is hungering for energon; more energon than we can give it right now." His red optics bore into the engineer.   
"But with the warp ship we could go to the outer regions and get the energon we need! And when we find Ralyk's storage cells...."   
"That could take a long time, Grapple," Optimus cautioned him.   
"Prime, we can do it with less energon and manpower! Please! Let us try it!"   
Optimus sighed. "This is a Council decision, Grapple. We acknowledge your request and will get back to you. Thank you."   
Grapple sighed deeply, used to disappointing meetings with the leaders. He took his plans, leaving the summary reports, and left. Optimus turned to Megatron, giving him a questioning look.   
"The engine works," the Decepticon leader said levelly, "but production costs are something else. It will draw on our reserves."   
"I know," Prime sighed. "We need energon from somewhere to run a full scale production."   
"Which means finding the reserves Ralyk built."   
"Exactly."   
They both knew it was nearly impossible. Ralyk had died without giving them the knowledge where the cells were. It had left them with strange powers and gifts, each with his or her own, but no one had the knowledge the entity had possessed.   
"First we have to divert the manpower, find the reserves in material and get the shell production going," Optimus went on. "The first few phases don't involve test flights. After that we can worry about energon," he added wryly. Megatron only nodded. "Now I'll see if I can have a word with Kall about this scepter business," Prime added as he left the room.   
Megatron remained behind, aware of his own pressing duties aside from the new transwarp drive. Wondering where Sparks was, who he hadn't seen for a while, he left for his own quarters.

* * *

He had no clue how she had done it, but Mel had made him talk. Nikaa tried to figure out how and when he had started to tell her about the theft, about the fake and how they had framed him for it, about his suspicions and theories, but it had happened. Of course she must know that he was a criminal. She hadn't volunteered to spend hours with him without knowing why he was locked up and wearing a tracer.   
"Someone framed you," Mel now said aloud. "But why go through all of this? I mean, they exchanged the real scepter for a fake, they made it look like you did it, but why? Why here? Why on Cybertron before an exhibition opens? Why not return home and do it there?"   
Nikaa sighed. "I wish I knew the answers because then I knew who is responsible for it."   
"Well, we have suspects. There is Alyngill. He's a power-hungry relative in a powerful position who wants more and more."   
"But he's too obvious!" Nikaa protested. "Everyone immediately suspects him! Maybe it was someone who wants to discredit the whole family, including the cousin. I mean, the family had opposition at home concerning taking the jewels to a foreign world. And what about the advisor, Thelenk?"   
Mel sighed. "Okay, we have suspects and possible reasons, but why target you? Whoever did it knows you can't return a stolen real scepter because you already did. You gave back the real one and someone else exchanged it for a fake."   
Nikaa rubbed his nose. "They want me dead," he said softly. "Why?"   
"Because you can testify you stole the real scepter and gave it back."   
"No, I can't! There is only my word, and for them it is the word of a thief!" he hissed angrily.   
"But Gryph can verify your statement."   
"They don't acknowledge what an Interface is, Mel. They deny it exists."   
She met his angry eyes. "Alyngill does, but does the court at home think the same?"   
Nikaa shrugged. "Then why want me to be extorted and brought before their court?" he asked.   
"Who says you will arrive on Ein'iian?"   
The question hung in the suddenly silent room and Nikaa went slightly pale. Mel nodded as she saw realization come to him.   
"Someone wants you dead, killing Gryph in the process, and only because they want to hide the real theft," Mel stated. "And I think they never pulled it off alone. Someone helped them, someone from the museum."   
"What makes you think so?"   
"Look at it, Nikaa." She held up one hand and counted off on her fingers. "One: you managed to break in and steal the real scepter. You returned it. Two: It was returned under guard and observation, then placed into the display case – under a brand new security system. Three: The code is known only to Kup. Four: The scepter was taken out again, also under guard, after the curator said he wanted it moved with the rest of the crown jewels all of a sudden – and that's when it was discovered to be a fake! If we exclude Kup as the criminal who did it, the exchange must have happened then. No Ein'ii was present, only museum guards and the curator."   
"Chimera."   
She nodded. "Yes."   
"You think he had anything to do with it?" Nikaa asked.   
"I have no clue, but I think having a look around would help." She smiled.   
"Having ... a look ... around?" Nikaa echoed.   
Mel rose. "You are not confined to quarters, only West Central. Care to stretch your legs a bit?"   
"You want to help me?" he asked, incredulous.   
"Of course."   
"Uhm, thanks.... I think."   
"Just one thing....?"   
"Yes?"   
Mel bent down slightly to fix him with her black optics. "Don't run."   
"No problem," Nikaa told her.

* * *

Optimus Prime knew he was an intruder in his own complex as he walked into the VIP wing, aware of the Ein'ii guards watching him, scanning him for weapons they might declare as dangerous. He wondered if they had an idea about subspace and the weaponry hidden there. Probably not. He knew they were simply doing their job, but in a way it annoyed, even angered, him because it meant the Ein'ii didn't trust Cybertronian security. Kup was over the top as well, but Prime had calmed him after a while.   
As he stepped into the guest quarters he automatically checked for more guards, but there were none in here. Like all VIP quarters they were spacious and more luxurious than the normal quarters. Kall ghu en' Atrakar, head of the united kingdoms of the Southwestern continent, greeted him. Like all his country men he was about three times the height of a human, his skin a light lavender color. He was dressed in the robes of the Atrakar family.   
"Thank you for making some time on your schedule, your majesty," Optimus started.   
"Please, call me by my given name. I am Kall. You are neither my subject nor am I your superior," the Ein'ii stopped him.   
Optimus was pleasantly surprised. "Of course...Kall."   
"You said you wanted to talk to me, Optimus Prime. About what?"   
"It concerns the theft of the scepter," the Autobot leader explained. Kall's face darkened. "I would like to request a reevaluation of the facts. We believe Nikaa is innocent of the crime, but Alyngill ghu en' Pahr already told me that Nikaa will be sentenced to death."   
"Yes. As the thief of the crown jewels he receives the highest punishment possible."   
"But we believe he didn't do it."   
Kall raised an eyebrow. "Do you have proof?"   
"Not really," Optimus confessed. "But your people have already sentenced him without a trial and Nikaa's case is special."   
"In what regard?"   
"He is Interfaced. Killing him means killing his Interface partner, a Cybertronian."   
Kall nodded. "I heard about the Interfacing business, but I cannot believe it has anything to do with the sentence as such. We have received no proof."   
"We are working on it," Optimus promised.   
Kall sighed. "I understand your point, Prime, but you have to understand mine. The theft has put me under a lot of pressure from the united kingdoms and from my own people. It is the first time the scepter went off-world and I had to fight hard to get the rest of the council to accept it. Many fought it and it took patience and smooth talking, but finally I succeeded." Kall met the blue gaze of the taller robot. "You must understand my people's position. Compared to others I rule liberally, I have the trust of my people, and I want to introduce foreign culture to our kingdom and the kingdom to off-worlders. Showing artifacts of Ein'iian was a first step, and now the scepter, the center piece, was stolen. I have lost face, I have lost position and I'm losing support."   
"Which is exactly why Nikaa was not involved," Optimus argued. "If you think about it, it becomes clear. He was employed to test the security system and he proved it to be faulty. We changed the settings and afterwards no one and nothing could have come through."   
"So he left out one fault and used this opening to get back in," Kall counter-argued.   
"Maybe. But then there is the fact that we immediately suspected him. No one in his right mind puts himself on a silver platter like this."   
"True, but maybe he thought that because he was the obvious thief you might not suspect him."   
Optimus had to confess he had a point here. "Even if that is true, what would he gain? He can't sell the scepter without someone knowing he stole it. There is a black market on Cybertron, but the scepter is hot stuff. No one would buy it."   
Kall nodded. "He could wait until the waves have calmed."   
"Yes, but you have to understand Nikaa's background. He has never accumulated stolen goods. He sells immediately. Then there is his partner. Gryph is linked mentally to him. She would have noticed."   
"A shield maybe?"   
"She mind-linked to him to verify his statement. There is no hiding anything on such a close level, Kall. Nikaa didn't do it. There is more trouble than profit in the theft," Optimus argued. "And most of the trouble is for you."   
Kall frowned slightly. "What are you implying."   
"That it was an inside job."   
Kall's eyes flashed. "Someone from inside... my people?"   
Optimus didn't say anything, simply returned the intense gaze. "Is there someone gaining from this theft?" he finally asked.   
The king rubbed the ridges over his nose. "I hope you understand that I cannot comment on this?"   
"Because it is true?"   
"Because it concerns my family."   
Optimus nodded slowly. "Could you stop the extradition at least? We can prove Nikaa is innocent!"   
"You go to length for this one off-worlder."   
"He is no off-worlder. He is an Interface. And on our world the accused are innocent until proven guilty."   
Kall smiled sadly. "Which is different from our legal system. The accused has to prove he is innocent and if he fails, justice rules. And to answer your question, no, I can't influence the law. Though I am the king of my country, the legal system is not ruled by me. I told you I have liberalized the system and law has been turned over to someone else. As king I have the final decision in matters, but I cannot influence justice on this level."   
"May I ask who the legal consultant is?"   
"Alyngill ghu en' Pahr."   
And Optimus understood. He nodded. "Thank you for taking so much time to hear me, Kall. I appreciate it."   
Kall bowed slightly in return. "It was a pleasure to meet you outside receptions, Optimus Prime." He gave him a genuine smile. "Even if it is such a grievous subject."   
Optimus left the room, ignoring the guards. He walked back to the command wing of West Central, his inner schedule planner telling him he as due for a meeting with Swiftstream, the representative of the Paratronian workers concerning the construction of the new ship and engine.

* * *

The library was huge. No, it was gigantic. Nikaa felt lost and ant-like as he walked into the underground chamber that housed the library of Cybertron. Down here, everything was filed. The building above, the library building, was only the access point. The storage was underground. He whistled in appreciation, his skilled eyes taking in the old scrolls and the newer data disks.   
"Everything stays where it is," Mel muttered just loud enough for him to hear her.   
Nikaa gave her a mock-outraged look. "Hey, who do you think I am?"   
"You want an honest answer?"   
Looking into those strangely liquid eyes he sighed. Somehow she saw right through him, just like Gryph, with the one difference that Mel didn't use an Interface link.   
"No," he mumbled.   
Mel smiled and walked over to the access terminals, choosing one and sitting down. Nikaa climbed onto the other chair, then jumped onto the terminal. He watched her as she accessed the library main menu and then worked her way from there to the search engines.   
"Okay, what do we want to check?" she asked.   
"Everything and everyone connected to the scepter," Nikaa answered.   
"Big order. Talking about orders, you better order out for pizza because we are going to be down here for a while." Mel smiled.   
"You eat?" Nikaa asked suspiciously.   
"Yes. Surprised?"   
"Uhm...no," he muttered.   
Mel started to type in search keys and the computer went to work. When the results came up on the screen, Nikaa knew why. There had to be over five thousand hits!   
"Eeeep," he mumbled.   
Mel sighed. "Well, we have to narrow it down and then see if any of the remaining files give us any answers."   
She set to work again and Nikaa watched her, eyes pinned to the screen, reading over the text files, studying pictures and trying to find out who had framed him and why.

* * *

An alarm chimed.   
He stopped in his work and walked over to his personal computer that was wired directly to WestCentralNet. He punched in his personal key code and waited. The message flashing up on the screen made him sit up straight. A curse escaped his lips and he simply stared at the screen, unable to do much more. Finally he shut down the alarm program.   
Someone had accessed his old files.   
Someone had dug so deep that he or she had found them.   
Chimera rose slowly from his seat.   
Who? And why?

* * *

The production floor was gigantic. A huge, partially assembled space ship body in various stages of production gleamed under the halogen lights. It wasn't more than a skeleton, but even now you could see it would one day be a very massive but still sleek machine. Scaffolding surrounded the fuselage and engine section. Dozens of robots worked on one of the warp cells and all in all there were over fifty workers involved in this production. Spike took it all in as he stood on the balcony overlooking the floor, his optics drawn to the ship on their own. He had seen the design spechs and he knew what it would look one day – just to be shaken apart, build again, destroyed again, and finally the space worthy model would be assembled for test flying. It had no name yet, but the Constructicons called it 'Transwarp'. He was fascinated by it and he couldn't explain why. He was no pilot, he was no engineer, he was simply a former mechanic who had taken over exploration of unknown worlds. Still, the Transwarp drew him to her.   
"She is beautiful," someone said and joined him.   
Spike glanced at his side and discovered Backdraft. The female Protogen, his second-in-command, smiled wistfully.   
"Our door to transwarp space and beyond."   
He nodded. "Yes," he said, sounding far away with his mind.   
Backdraft smiled slightly. "I heard Grapple wants the first one up and flying in less than six months."   
"Engineers. Always in a hurry to get their baby space borne but reluctant to let anyone fly it," Spike chuckled.   
She grinned. They walked back out of the hangar together, Spike still deep in thought.   
"How is Mel?" Backdraft asked.   
"Getting better, I think."   
"You think?"   
"She kinda refuses to see anyone. I know Nightmare is getting through to her and we talked, but she is not really opening up." He sighed. "She is trying to deal with it her way and I don't believe it is the right way."   
"Then go and tell her," Backdraft said quietly. "She is your daughter."   
Spike smiled sadly. "How do you talk to someone who doesn't listen to what you are saying?"

* * *

Melissa's hands flew over the touch pad keyboard and Nikaa watched her call up documents, copy them and then store the data on one of the carry-disks she had taken out of a rack of similar disk for public use. They had found quite a few interesting pieces on Ein'ii history and religion, as well as culture and believes. Suddenly Mel frowned and Nikaa saw her access one of the user files. As he glanced at the data scrolling over the screen, his eyes widened imperceptibly.   
Ein'iian - a planet uncovered   
track no. LH-9834, B12   
last access 45-712-11   
user: Chimera   
"He accessed the files as well!" Nikaa breathed.   
Mel nodded. "And not only those. There are multiple user entries to his name." She let the screen scroll further up, the typed another command.   
user: Chimera   
user code: *******   
last access 34-712-11   
list of accessed documents (reversed thread)   
Ein'ii Myth and Magic   
Ein'iian - an attempt to map a world   
The Art of Art   
Alien Mythologies   
What Is Real?   
The Underground of Cybertron   
Star Charts, issue 45, 37, 900, 162   
Secrets of Jewels   
The list went on and Nikaa started to see a definite trend here. He looked at Mel and discovered the same expression he believed he had on his face on hers. "He must have been a regular here," he finally said. "Noticed the art and jewelry books?"   
She nodded and asked for a copy of one of the mentioned books. She paged through it and Nikaa saw his suspicions confirmed. There was a rather large section on forgery, fakes and how to detect them. Calling up more books they discovered that all of them were more or less about forgery.   
"So you think he was involved?" Mel asked neutral.   
He cast her a look, then nodded. "You don't?"   
She shrugged. "It wouldn't hold up in a court of law. Anyone can go to a library and read books."   
"But *those* books?"   
"Yes, even those. He is the curator of the Cybertronian Museum of History. He is supposed to know real from fake. His arguments would be convincing."   
Nikaa sighed deeply. "What about the star charts?"   
They had a look at the listed issues and found they were all about Cybertron, mainly about where it had been when created and where it had moved to in the millions of years it existed now. No clue as to why Chimera had accessed them. Ein'iian was on none of them.   
Nikaa sat back and sighed deeply. "This is getting more and more complicated," he muttered.   
Melissa smiled. "Tell me about it."   
They had spent the last day cooped up in the library, Nikaa for a time forgetting that he was actually fighting for his life here, already sentenced without a trial. All files containing information about the Ein’ii had been sorted and then read. The Ein’ii society was complex but also rather single-minded. It all revolved around royalty and monarchy. The planet was divided into small kingdoms, each ruled by a king or queen, prince or princess, all of them making up a kind of ‘round table’, a council. The ruler of a kingdom was elected by the chosen of the people, which was a rather democratic way, but once in power, this power was absolute. Their individual influence on the council depended on the backing they had, mostly meaning the size of their kingdom and their share of business holds.   
Mel had delved deeply into Kall’s family and had found that he belonged to a branch of council members who ruled liberally and were slowly turning away from old ideals. The others were watching them warily, but since every king could do as he pleased in his kingdom, there was no outspoken criticism. But a lot had been written down. And incidentally, Kall ruled one of the largest kingdoms there was and he was the heir to the scepter. The scepter was one of the greatest possessions the kingdom had.   
Mel kept on searching through the list and suddenly stopped again.   
"Will you look at this!" she muttered and pointed at the few lines on the screen. "Chimera accessed WestCentralNet and used a private chat room."   
"Can we find out who he talked to?"   
"We? No. Someone else? Maybe....."   
"Who?"   
"Oh, someone I know. Don't worry."   
The humanoid sighed. He hated to be left in the dark. "Okay," he then said aloud. "Change of topic. What happens now that Kall has lost the scepter?"   
"Political repercussions," Mel said. "He will lose face, he might lose the trust of his people, another ruler could take over. He isn’t automatically dethroned, but in time a rival might rise up and win by overthrowing the weakened king."   
"Alyngill."   
Mel shook her head. "Alyngill is the cousin, not direct blood in Ein’ii tradition and understanding. He would never inherit the throne when Kall steps down."   
"Does Kall have any children? Maybe a brother or sister?"   
"No children, but two brothers and a sister.."   
Nikaa frowned. "Then what would happen?"   
"A new ruler would be elected by the people if they express their mistrust in Kall, if they rebel against him because he lost the scepter."   
"Any idea who might be the candidate?"   
"No clue."   
Nikaa’s frown deepened. "So if we find the possible candidate, we know who has the scepter."   
"Maybe," Mel cautioned him. "Whoever he is, he doesn’t need the scepter to be elected. He only needs to discredit the current king, which he did already."   
"True. Still, if we want to prove my innocence, we need to find the motif."   
She looked at him. "And how do you propose to do that?"   
"Break into their quarters and have a look around?"   
Mel’s eyes narrowed. "Nikaa...."   
He raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I didn’t say I should do it, but if you insist." Her expression said it all. "Okay, okay, okay,"  the thief muttered. He suddenly grinned.   
"Then you have to do it."   
"Me?!"   
"You know anyone else?"   
"Actually yes, I do...."

Sparks took in the room below her and grinned widely. It had been so easy to slip through the airvents, bypass the security system and convince the locks to open. She had a knack for it and no one and nothing could stop her when it came to breaking into a highly secured area, building or room. The request to help prove Nikaa’s innocence had surprised her but it would be a nice little adventure, something more exciting than evading Megatron’s blasts and ignoring his moods, though lately, because the warp drive was finally working, he had grown better. Now she unscrewed the airvent grill and surveyed the floor. It was a normal guest quarter, a bit larger because the person living here was a VIP, and it was neatly cleaned. Only a few personal belongings could be seen. Sparks jumped lightly onto the floor and looked around. There were no cameras, no sensor pads, no light barriers. And why should there? No one broke into diplomatic quarters and those who tried would get caught. Well, those who didn’t have Sparks’ skills and connections. Thanks to some help from Maverick the security grid for this sector was currently playing a loop. Kup would never know. She started her search, the map in her system telling her where the safe was. She searched through papers, scanned files, accessed the computer and generally made a complete sweep of the room. After only five minutes she was done and quickly retreated, slipping along the airvent to the next room. It took her only 12 minutes all in all for the rest of the rooms and the moment she was on safe ground she radioed Maverick.

Up in the security room, Maverick easily and professionally switched the security program out of the loop. Then he checked for people around him, ejected, transformed from cassette mode to cat mode, and left. No one had seen a thing.

"So they’ve been in contact," Nikaa muttered as he leafed through the prints of what Sparks had downloaded from her memory banks. "Chimera is involved. Maybe we should delve a bit into his background."   
"Might prove difficult," Sparks said, sitting on the floor next to him, sharp optics taking everything in. "Chimera’s past is hidden and lost." Mel gave her a surprised look and the cat shrugged. "You see and hear a lot when hanging around the old Wossname."   
"Megatron researched Chimera?"   
"Yes, but you don’t have it from me."   
"Why?" Mel wanted to know.   
Sparks chose not to answer.   
"Because of the theft?"   
"So much I can tell you: no."   
Mel sighed deeply. "Okay, what next?"   
"We shadow him?" Nikaa proposed.   
"We can’t follow him 24 hours a day!" Melissa protested. "Too obvious!"   
"I have four, well, five volunteers who wouldn’t be too conspicuous," Sparks said casually, smiling again.   
Nikaa gave her a surprised look.   
"The kids," she answered. "And Ravage. I might even be able to convince the other cassettes, but the telepathic link could be a problem. Ravage is always skulking around, so it wouldn’t be too obvious."   
"It might help," Mel admitted reluctantly. "But if you are discovered"   
"Then we were just checking out new places. Cats do that. Trust me, we can do it."   
"Why help me?" Nikaa now wanted to know.   
"Because I know you didn’t do it and I don’t like Alyngill. He is in on the theft, involved big time, and he wants to frame you. I don’t like that," Sparks explained simply.

* * *

Optimus Prime leaned back and if he had been human he would have taken a deep breath. Rodimus shot him an amused look and Prime chose to ignore it. They had just finished going over the last papers concerning the transwarp construction and it looked better than at first expected. The Paratronians would handle the work on the frame and engine under the lead of the engineers who had designed it, and the necessary parts would now be coming from Mernan and Alean. Midnight and Tornado had explained that the facilities on both worlds were able to produce the parts except for the engine, which was the heart of the Transwarp. It would be facilitated here on Cybertron. It took a great burden off Cybertronian factories who were already hard pressed to produce what was necessary for reconstruction of the obliterated South Continent and the sectors along the borders.   
"Now all we have to worry about is fuel for the engines," Rodimus said and stored his copy of the records.   
Prime grimaced. "I know. I've been contemplating contacting either the Planet of Junk or actually start actively searching for the power storage cells Ralyk hid all over the planet. We are getting energon to run our facilities from somewhere but locating them is impossible. If we concentrate some manpower on it, we might make a breakthrough."   
"Possible, but I wouldn't hold my bets there. Ralyk knew what it was doing. We are running on power, we have the resources to keep the planet on-line even with Vector Sigma gone."   
"We just have no idea where it is coming from and how much there is of it."   
The younger leader nodded. "And before we get the Transwarp up and running we still have to see how she survives fatigue tests."   
Both knew it meant at least six Standard months before any of the engineers would allow the ship out of the test beds.   
"And before we worry about the Transwarp, there is still the problem with the theft," Optimus sighed.   
"Anything new on this?"   
"More or less." Optimus gave his friend a run-down on what he had found out from Kall. Rodimus listened to it, frowning slightly.   
"Sounds definitely like an inside job to stir up a lot of trouble for Kall. But if Alyngill, who is our main suspect, doesn't get anything out of it because the people will elect a new ruler.... who is?"   
"That is something we need to find out and maybe then we know where the scepter is and who stole it."

* * *

Ravage had followed the old Autobot for some time now and he had started to think about the whole scenario. Sparks had explained the problem to him and he had heard about the theft, but so much was still unclear. Was Chimera part of it? Or was he just an innocent bystander with a foggy background and a path through the war that lost itself several times, only to pop up later? He was mysterious, but well, with his age and his past, who wouldn't try and change his life? Whatever.... Ravage wasn't the one to judge the Autobot. He was here to keep an optic on him, to gather information. Xanadu, Fuzz, Red, Maverick and he had worked in shifts, and just before Chimera had left West Central Ravage had relieved Red.   
Now he seemed to be in some kind of city. A deserted city. The buildings were high and all colored in a uniform gray and black. Everywhere plaster was peeling off and sometimes half the building had collapsed. Here and there small shadows whisked through the rubble or the dark side alleys. From what Ravage knew this was part of the Badlands, a part of Cybertron as ancient as the war itself, always a dark place, always a place of destruction. No one had ever tried to rebuild it. It was a place of gathering for the renegades, for the outcasts, the wanted, the criminals, and trails were easily lost in here.   
There was an eerieness about the city that made even Ravage's skin crawl. He had been to many old and ruined cities, temples and buildings, but nothing had been as bad as this. This one had been dead for millions of years, not just hundreds or thousands.   
So why was Chimera coming here?   
Everything seemed dead. A long time dead. Very carefully he started to walk down the street, following the path Chimera had taken. Now and then he thought he saw something move inside the buildings but every time he stopped to get a better look the shadow was gone.   
Finally he arrived at the end of the street. A flat, two-story building squatted in front of him, as old as the rest and even more dark. Ravage gave it a close once-over and then decided to scale up the sides. He crouched outside a grimy, partly broken window, overlooking the large hall below. There was so much dust and dirt up here that it was nearly impossible to stay clean. His skin was already covered with dirt. The hall itself was devoid of life, but lots of shadows were scurrying around between the debris.   
Ravage pushed open the window and carefully entered the building. He jumped down on the floor and scared a robot rat that was about his size. It still scurried away and left its imprints in the dust.   
And then he heard the voices.   
"You have what you wanted," a male voice said. "Now give me what I have earned!"   
The voice that answered was much calmer and more distinguished. "Everything is working perfectly, thanks to you."   
"Yes, you have the scepter and your ship will lift off as planned," Chimera said. "Now give me my payment!"   
"Of course. You earned it well, Autobot."   
"Now!" Chimera demanded.   
Ravage crept closer and finally saw the large, towering form of the Autobot and the slender alien with him. It was an Ein'ii. It was Alyngill.   
"Why are you worrying?" Alyngill asked mildly. "We're in a safe environment here, haven't you told me so? No one comes here."   
"Of course not," Chimera answered, disdain in his voice. "No Autobot or Decepticon in his right mind comes to the Badlands. And if I have my way, no Decepticon will ever set foot anywhere again!"   
"Come with me, Autobot. I have what you seek here," Alyngill now said and Ravage heard steps moving away.   
Ravage waited a few seconds and then followed the sound of the retreating feet.... and then the sound stopped. He blinked and strained his audios, but there was nothing. Frowning, he looked at the floor, which he thought would be covered with dust and that way might be an indicator where the two had gone, but it wasn't. The floor was clean-swept. Finding no traces on the floor, Ravage began a detailed search. What he found was nothing; no doors, no panels, no nothing. Where had they gone?   
He growled.

* * *

"Someone is snooping around!"   
Alyngill looked at the younger man and sneered. "So? They won't find anything."   
"How do you know? They are snooping and they will find out things! Things that they shouldn't!"   
Alyngill sighed. "I'll handle it."   
The other Ein'ii shook his head. "Like you handled the robot? That was a stupid move!"   
"Watch your tongue."   
The other snarled and switched off the vid screen. Alyngill simply shook his head. Too young, too hot-headed, but easily guided and perfectly suited for the throne, especially under the guidance of his advisor...."

* * *

Melissa walked into Optimus Prime's office, Nikaa in tow. Halfway to the commander's office Gryph had joined them. She hadn't spoken a word, but from the way she was watching her partner she was communicating with him – one way or the other.  
Nikaa had grown more and more silent throughout their research and Melissa knew why. They had dug deep into the history of the Ein'ii and especially the united kingdom under the leadership of the Atrakar family. Kall had fought long and hard to get the kingdoms this far and he had had opposition all the way and still had it. Using the scepter he had tried to get his planet known to the other worlds, get relations going, but now everything had backfired. Alyngill didn't show up all that much. He was a background figure, someone who was like a shadow. A controlling shadow, Mel had remarked. He was involved in this, but how....?  
"Who would benefit from Kall stepping down?" Rodimus now asked. He had been present as they had entered.  
"No one we can see," Mel sighed. "That's the problem. Alyngill is not Atrakar family and that's why he wouldn't be automatically a candidate for an election. He could try it, but kingdoms and the people in them are loyal to a family, which doesn't necessarily mean they automatically trust their chosen king without question once he is elected. Atrakar is the ruling family and will choose the candidates. Alyngill wouldn't stand a chance."  
"And he never showed the ambition either," Nikaa added. "His job is that of an advisor, a right hand, not a ruler."  
"He is holding the strings, guiding the king, but this king seems to go the opposite way," Rodimus mumbled.  
Optimus shot him a curious look.  
"Think about it," the younger Autobot explained. "Alyngill is the advisor and he advised kings in the past. The kingdom was as conservative as the rest of them until Kall was elected. He is a liberal king, steering the union somewhere else completely, causing an uproar in the council, but they are not counter-acting his decisions! He is accomplishing things, especially in diplomatic relations with off-worlders."  
Mel nodded. "I had a look at the records. Since he was elected a lot more diplomats from other worlds were allowed into the kingdom, import and export has risen and the united kingdoms are flourishing. Before he was regent there was a strict rule against outside trade. Ein'iian was fiercely protecting its goods."  
"Someone seems to be against progress, and Alyngill is involved. But who would be his pawn after Kall steps down?" Optimus wanted to know.  
"Well, since it can be only Atrakar family we had a look at the family tree. Kall has two younger brothers and a sister. All are married to allied kingdoms. His brothers share his liberal views, but his sister seems to be married to a conservative. His name is Grath of Ouzja. His kingdom was allowed into the union because he married the sister."  
"Wouldn't the brothers be candidates as well?" Rodimus wanted to know.  
"At first look yes," Mel said. "But I had another look at the election rules and at the likely candidates. Both brothers are already kings of their own kingdoms, members of the united council and because of that not allowed to be leader of a second kingdom. Keeps families from amassing power and overthrowing the rest."  
"Interesting. And the brother-in-law isn't?"  
"Currently he is second heir to the kingdom of Ouzja and there is no way his older brother is stepping down. He could ask to be named candidate and because he is married to an Atrakar, also be announced one. Or the sister steps in, being of Atrakar blood, and goes for the election of queen."  
"And with the election," Nikaa concluded, "Alyngill would also be back in power, the ruler behind the ruler, shaping the Atrakar kingdom back to the conservative power it was. Atrakar is one of the most powerful families. Their voice is always heard."  
Prime rubbed his optics. "So what now?"  
"Maybe you should talk to Kall again, tell him what we believe happened," Mel suggested carefully.  
"Maybe. Those are strong accusations and we need to back them up with more than family history. We need proof."  
Mel and Nikaa looked at each other. "Errr.... we kinda have some proof," she then said hesitantly.  
   
 

\-- "You have what you wanted. Now give me what I have earned!"   
\-- "Everything is working perfectly, thanks to you."   
\-- "Yes, you have the scepter and your ship will lift off as planned. Now give me my payment!"   
\-- "Of course. You earned it well, Autobot."   
\-- "Now!"   
\-- "Why are you worrying? We're in a safe environment here, haven't you told me so? No one comes here."   
\-- "Of course not. No Autobot or Decepticon in his right mind comes to the Badlands. And if I have my way, no Decepticon will ever set foot anywhere again!"   
\-- "Come with me, Autobot. I have what you seek here."   
Then there was the sound of fading steps and the tape clicked off. Optimus Prime looked down at the tape player, then at Nikaa, Gryph and Mel. Rodimus was leaning against the wall, pretending to be simply a watcher.   
"Where did you get this?" he finally wanted to know.   
"Uhm....." Mel shot the humanoid a quick look. "We... employed some help."   
"What help?"   
"Ravage," she answered meekly.   
"You sent Ravage after Chimera?! Trailing him?"   
"In a way," Nikaa mumbled. "But we now know every step he made and he behaved very suspicious, even without the tape!" he defended them.   
"Who else was involved?" the Autobot leader asked wearily.   
"Ah.... except Ravage?"   
"Yes, except Ravage."   
"Maverick, Fuzz, Xanadu, Red, Sparks...."   
"The whole cat family?!" the Autobot leader exclaimed.   
"Yes." Mel shrugged. "We needed someone to help us and Nikaa couldn't leave the building.... and I was supposed to keep an eye on him... what could we do?"   
Prime sighed. "You know that this tape won't hold up in a court of law? It could be faked."   
"It isn't!" Nikaa protested. Gryph gave a soft rumble and he whirled to shoot an evil look at her. "Shut up! It isn't a fake! Ravage recorded it!"   
"We believe you, Nikaa, but the Ein'ii won't. They wouldn't believe a video tape if we had one," Rodimus told him softly. "They distrust all our moves because we are trying to prove your innocence while they have already sentenced you."   
The young thief deflated. "What can we do then?"   
"I'll talk to Kall, then we'll see," Optimus decided. "I'm going to bring the tape along and see what his reaction is."   
"What about Chimera?" Melissa wanted to know.   
"I'll send Kup to arrest him."   
She nodded. They had tried to find out some facts about Chimera, but it was like running up against a wall. He didn't exist, never had until a few decades ago, right before the alliance, and no one could tell them who he was in reality. Kup knew him as a warrior from long ago, but his trail had been lost throughout the millennia when Megatron and Prime had crashed on Earth, the war at home coming to a stand-still. Now he was in some way involved in the theft, but why?

* * *

Gryph watched Nikaa as he sat silently on the table, sipping on some kind of cold liquid, lost in thought. Mel had left for a while, giving them privacy, though there was nothing more private than an Interface link. She approached him, sitting down beside the table, her green optics never wavering from the small organic.   
"What do you want?" he asked warily.   
"Nothing."   
"Then go chase a mouse," he mumbled, drawing his knees up and staring at the floor.   
Gryph's tail twitched. She had taken on her griffin form, one she was more at ease around Nikaa with. When she didn't move, Nikaa looked up.   
"Go away!" he demanded angrily. His voice wavered slightly.   
"Why?"   
Furious brown eyes glared at him. "Just go!"   
"You are afraid. You think they will kill you."   
His fury doubled. "Shut up!" he demanded.   
"I thought the great Nikaa, second son of Ghlanadra and Ntion, is afraid of nothing," she teased him.   
The reaction she got was not what Gryph had expected. The wave of rage swamping her through the link slammed her back and she shook herself, nearly hissing at the humanoid, but then she saw his expression and the emotions coming through were clearing.   
"I'm not afraid for me!" Nikaa cried. "I don't care what happens! I lived with the danger since I could walk, since I stole my first valuable! But there is you now! You are linked to me, bird brain! Do you know what it means when they kill me?!"   
Gryph sat back in shocked silence. Yes, she knew what it meant..... her own death. Because they were Interfaced....   
"Your death won't affect me. It can't," she heard herself mumble, her voice circuits numb.   
"Don't kid yourself, feathers for brain!" he hissed, shaking with the emotions. "We are linked! We share an Interface connection!"   
Gryph's optics lit up with the same anger. "Your presence is nothing! I won't feel its removal."   
Nikaa was trembling more now and his walls were breaking down. "Maybe," he whispered hoarsely. "Or maybe not." He jumped off the table, unsteadily walking toward the door. "Then again, as unfeeling as you are, you might just shrug it off, right?" he choked out. "I'm nothing but an annoying little insect to you."   
Gryph was unable to say anything. What would she feel if Nikaa died? She didn't believe the link ran that deep, but she knew it was a deception, self-deception, because Interfaces were not just a surface connection. They went deeper. They reached into the soul....   
[No] she finally whispered through the link. [I can never go back to what I was. I'd rather die than ever be so alone again]   
Nikaa stopped, his liquid brown eyes widening. Gryph approached him, smiling sadly.   
[I can't be what I was because some thieving little mouse changed me]   
He tried a smile but it failed miserably. Both knew that if Nikaa was sentenced to death and the sentence executed, Gryph would die as well, either immediately or turning insane and committing suicide.   
"I should never have accepted the offer," he now whispered. "All the time I worked alone, there was never anyone I could have pulled with me. I .... I simply forgot the Interface. It shouldn't have happened. I grew thoughtless...."   
"You couldn't have resisted the offer even if you had had a family around, mouse," Gryph told him. "You are a thief. It's in your blood."   
"You are wrong!" he said forcefully. "I turned down offers in the past because of associates, because of the danger of someone else taking the fall with me! I have honor! I won't destroy another life just like that! Only because you are associated with me will you fall as well!"   
"I think it's called Interfacing," she corrected him mildly.   
"I don't care what they call it!" he exploded.   
"But you care about others. About me."   
Nikaa sighed heavily. It was what his teacher had told him would one day be his downfall: his care. He had nearly been caught because of it once in his long gone past, and now it was threatening to kill someone who hadn't even helped him with the theft, willingly or unwillingly. Nikaa had made a reputation and name with the fact that he was such a perfect thief, that there never were any traces, no one to put under pressure to draw him out of a hiding place. Not any more.   
"I got used to you," he now muttered. It sounded like Gryph was a lawn ornament. "And I'm not a mouse," he finally growled, trying to work his way away from the topic of his weak spot.   
"From where I stand, you are," she teased and gently nudged him in the side.   
Nikaa ran a hesitant hand over the feathers, then pulled back. This was getting too close. Gryph felt the same and retreated, watching him as he rubbed his eyes and sank into the couch. She lay down beside him, curling up, keeping him company until Mel would return.

* * *

"They know! Damnit, they know!" he cried in panic.   
Alyngill looked at the vid screen image of the young prince and shook his head. "Calm down, Grath. They are fishing for a reaction. Kall has called me for a meeting and I suspect the Autobot presented him a few pieces of 'evidence'. I'll reassure him that they are only doing it to save the thief's life and are desperate. Just calm yourself!"   
"They have a tape!" Grath shrieked. "They dug into the background and they know about the succession and election!"   
The counselor felt a brief surge of panic. Tape? "I'll handle it."   
"You said so before!"   
Alyngill simply shut off the vid screen. Grath was going on his nerves.

* * *

"He disappeared without a trace."   
"That's impossible!" Kup said angrily, banging his fist on the table. "Nobody disappears just like this! No even Chimera! Use your informants! Someone has seen him!"   
Cyclonus looked calmly at the security chief. "I used my informants, Autobot. Chimera has not left the planet, he has not entered the Badlands, he was not seen Below. He's disappeared off the face of this planet, but not by any of the known routes."   
"Then look for the unknown ones! I thought you Counterstrike guys were so hot!"   
"I checked everything. If you do not trust my statements, ask Silhouette. Chimera has disappeared completely and you know this leads to few very happy conclusions."   
Kup growled darkly and rubbed his forehead. "I know, I know. Still...."   
Cyclonus only regarded him pointedly. For him it was clear: Chimera was either dead or he had managed to slip by every single thug and criminal and smuggler they knew completely undetected, and left. Cyclonus didn't think the latter was at all possible.   
"Why should someone kill him?"   
"Because he was involved? Because he knew too much? You said Ravage followed him into the old safezone close to the Badlands. He had contact with the Ein'ii, then he disappeared."   
"We don't know what he did there!"   
"Exactly why I sent someone out to check for traces."   
"Who?" Kup asked suspiciously.   
"Chromia and Blitzwing. I expect their report within the next twelve hours."

* * *

"I want him dead!"   
"But Alyngill ordered us to ....."   
Grath leaned forward, his face filling the vid screen. "Alyngill is not your commander, Jhann. I am. And I want him dead!"   
Jhann nodded briskly. "As you order, your majesty."   
"Good! And make sure he dies a long and suffering death!"   
The vid screen flicked off and left the Ein'ii in silence. He turned away from the communications console and gathered his weapons.

 * * *

Mel had left for the night, needing a recharge, and Nikaa was too tired to do much anyway. He had promised, no, vowed, not to do anything stupid and she believed him. His mind was much too busy trying to find out what exactly was going on and how they could prove it all. As she walked to her quarters she was joined by someone else.   
"Hello, Nightmare."   
The larger Gatekeeper smiled. "Heard you got a new job," he teased. "Nanny...."   
Mel grimaced and took a playful swipe at him, the first time in their friendship able to actually threaten him physically. "Shut up! It's fun."   
"Any leads?"   
"Plenty, but none of them the best. We're working on it, but we have our suspects." She smiled mysteriously. "But I'm done for tonight. I need some rest."   
"Need some company?" Nightmare asked.   
Mel's black optics met his red ones and she smiled. "If you want to sit around while I'm recharging....?"   
He mirrored the smile. "Nothing I'd like to do more."   
"Thanks," she whispered, aware that he was ready to spend all the time in the world guarding her recharge sleep if she so much as hinted toward it."   
Nightmare just kept on smiling gently.

* * *

Nikaa was about done for tonight. He was dead tired, his mind was overflowing with information about the Ein'ii and the scepter, and he was trying to figure it all out. Gryph was not in his quarters, which he was thankful for, but he suspected she'd sneak in or sit down in front of the door within the next hour. She had this knack....  Their relationship had changed throughout this terrible business and it was getting too close for their comfort. It felt good, Nikaa had decided, but it was also a breach of privacy on a level he had never experienced.   
The warning prickle of an attack came almost too late. He thought he saw a movement in the shadows and turned to get a better look when suddenly something heavy crashed on his right shoulder. Pain exploded in his arm, numbing every nerve there was. He went to his knees with a cry. Nikaa let himself fall aside and rolled around, trying to get some distance between himself and the dark-clad attacker. Another attack drove him back and he gasped as the attacker pulled out a long blade of glinting metal, stabbing at him.   
"Who are you?" Nikaa asked, confused.   
"Justice."   
He evaded the stabs, trying to find a way out of his predicament. Had he had more training and awareness of his Interface link to Gryph it would not have ended as it soon would. But Nikaa was too new at this and he and Gryph had never really trained it....   
"Whose justice?" he now demanded.   
"Ein'ii justice, thief. You have been sentenced. I am your executor," the stranger said.   
"I'm innocent!"   
"You were ruled guilty," the attacker declared emotionlessly.   
"By whose law?"   
"Ours. You always were guilty."   
Hatred boiled inside Nikaa, a hatred fueled by what he had had to endure, all the humiliation, all the pain, and he closed the distance before he had any time to think what he was doing.

Gryph's emerald optics flared, a tiny yellow spark erupting inside them and coloring the green a bit more yellow. And the yellow color was growing. Her fingers clenched into fists, then snapped open, sharp talons glinting in the artificial light. She spread her wings, trembling.   
"Gryph?"   
Optimus watched the sudden display with growing unease. He had run into her by accident as he and Midnight had walked to the command center. Judging from the time of day Nikaa was probably asleep and she was seeking a place to be alone – as always.   
"What's going on?" he demanded.   
"Attack...." Gryph managed weakly. "Nikaa...."   
Then she hissed and tried to make it past Prime, but he stretched out one arm and grabbed the smaller and more slender Sentinel. It got him a pair of talons in his forearm, energon spilling out of the wound. He ignored it and held on.   
"Nikaa is under attack?" he asked.   
"I'll kill the bastard!" Gryph raged. "Let me go, Autobot, or I'll tear you apart!"   
Midnight grabbed her other arm, his green visored optics burning into her yellow-green ones. "If you go into battle rage it won't help your partner!" he whispered. "Don't let his side of the link control you!"   
Gryph struggled to get free, visibly working herself into a rage that was only too well-known among the Cybertronians who had met her; and even among those not knowing her personally. She tried to transform, but Optimus grip did not falter. Midnight slammed her against the wall and kept her pinned down. She was too far gone to really fight back.   
"Gryph, listen!" Midnight demanded. "One of you has to stay clear-headed and that is you! Pinpoint his location, home in on his mind and guide him!"

The Ein'ii stretched out the hand not holding the sword-like blade and pointed his palm at him. Nikaa saw the blood-red stone and he saw it flash with energy, then this energy hit his body, slamming him back and into a pillar. The breath was driven out of him and he saw colorful lights explode around him. A fist hammered into his face, sprawling him.   
Nikaa's eyes were dark pools of rage and vengeance, his Interface link wide open and channeling every single emotion back at Gryph. He wasn't even aware of it.....

Gryph suddenly screamed, twisting more, talons now biting into the arms of the Sentinel leader holding her. Midnight didn't care. She could pierce his armor and he was bleeding, just like Optimus, but he had to get her to calm herself down. He knew the disastrous effects a haywire Interface link had; he and Steve had gone through enough of them.   
"Shield your mind!" he ordered.   
Her unfocused optics turned his way and he winced. Then she moaned again, almost slumping into his arms.

A boot tip thudded into his chest, stealing what little breath his lungs had managed to gather, and the pain fueled even more hate. Thoughts of murder stole into his mind. The next kick was accompanied by something cracking and he tasted blood. The next kick hit his head and blackness threatened. Nikaa moaned softly and slumped, pain radiating from his ribs.   
His attacker grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him off the ground. Nikaa looked into the cold eyes of the larger alien. He struggled weakly. His right arm was useless, his ribs blazed and pulsed, and he wasn't sure whether he had the strength to take that guy out.   
Get away, his mind screamed. Get away, get away, get away!

"Where is he?" Midnight asked calmly, still holding the female Sentinel.   
Gryph shivered, trying valiantly to uphold shields, keeping her emotions in and Nikaa's out. It was a losing battle, Midnight knew, and sooner or later her primitive shields would break. No new partnership could do it. Nothing like this had ever happened to her.   
"Quarters...." she rasped.

Nikaa choked and brought his left fist up. He lashed out and hit the Ein'ii on the chin. The attacker cried in annoyance and let go of him, just as Nikaa had planned. He fell to the floor and rolled away, coming unsteadily to his feet. Everything blurred around him and he dropped to his knees again.   
"Why fight it?" the Ein'ii asked.   
Nikaa looked up and his pain was suddenly secondary. He had to take this guys down. He could prove that Nikaa was innocent because he was connected to Alyngill. He staggered to his feet, forcing his pain-glazed eyes to focus on his enemy.   
"Not yet!" he growled and launched himself at the Ein'ii.   
Their bodies collided. The alien screamed in rage and Nikaa felt something slash down his hip, then he was catapulted off the stronger man. A new pain was added to the old one already present but he had no time to scream. He thumped into the wall with a sickening thud and dizziness assaulted him. Blood smeared the floor.   
Nikaa's eyelids suddenly grew heavy and he forced himself to stay conscious. Somewhere in the back of his mind a new wave of rage, a rage not his own, sent tremors through his weakened body. He just wanted to lie here..... sink into a coma and die. He had lost....everything.   
<NO!>   
The scream came from the link and it raced like liquid fire through his brain, jerking him awake.   
<Don't leave me alone!>   
The pain receded as if taken away by a magic hand. The agony was still there, just muffled. He unsteadily got to his feet, brown eyes holding a strange yellow pin-point glare.   
"You!" he whispered.   
It was like the crack of a whip through the silent room. The Ein'ii turned and his eyes widened as he saw Nikaa standing straight, his right side blood-smeared, a puddle on the floor, but he was standing.   
"What?!!"

Gryph was more or less in trance, a state of mind she had never experienced before. She didn't even know how it had happened. All she knew was that her shields had started to leak, that she had felt Nikaa's presence weaken, and then.....   
Displacement.....   
Distance....   
New sensations.....   
What?!   
Where?   
Oh....no....

Nikaa felt someone else guide him, his mind sitting back, watching his severely wounded body dance an impossible dance. He witnessed his hands lash out, deliver several blows into the other's body, disarm him, all the time moving gracefully.   
This wasn't him.....   
He was inside his mind.... in pain and half-unconscious.....   
And then his attacker crashed into Nikaa's more slender body. Both were driven back by the force, slammed into the window and suddenly there was nothing that kept them from going anymore.

Optimus Prime rushed down the highway toward the coordinates Nikaa was, the half-unconscious griffin Sentinel in his trailer. They were almost there. He wasn't prepared for what happened next.   
Gryph roared and transformed, launching herself out of the trailer – through the metal walls! She burst out of the confining space and shot toward the wing Nikaa's quarters were in, Optimus staring after her. He briefly glanced at his trailer and winced. There was a gaping hole in the roof.   
Midnight thundered over him and followed the other Sentinel.

Nikaa felt the air rush by.   
He heard two screams, one from the Ein'ii as he realized that the ground was several stories below, and from the Interface link.   
He crashed into something.... something both soft and hard. The wind was driven out of his lungs and the cracked rib he had broke. Something inside his shoulder tore, a minor pain added to the rest, then his fall stopped.   
<Nikaa?!>   
Blackness threatened and his vision danced wildly. He thought he saw something green, framed by darkness, and as the darkness grew and enveloped him completely, the green was what stayed longest. Then even that was gone.

* * *

Nikaa woke slowly, his mind a woozy mess, his body aching in all the wrong places. He was used to exercising and the muscle aches following those exercises, but this felt different. Consciousness brought the throb and sting of dozens of wound. The pain was faraway though, softened and kind of fuzzy. Pain-killers his mind told him, though it was hard to think and even harder to think in clear lines. The pain of the injury was not completely dimmed by it, but it was bearable.   
He tried to take inventory. His shoulder ached. His right hand was in a cast. Every breath was accompanied by twinges from his shattered ribs. Then there was a dull throb along his hip where the blade had cut him. He was a mess. Nikaa opened his eyes to slits, routinely cautious and groaned as the bright light coming from the ceiling hurt his all-of-a-sudden sensitive eyes. He closed them and tried the same procedure after a few minutes of just lying there again. This time it didn't hurt as much, but his head still pounded. He took in the room. It was a hospital room, med bay.... and he was alone. An IV ran to one arm, otherwise there were no infusions of any kind. Monitors showed wiggly lines that made barely any sense. He knew he was alive, through whatever miracle, and he was in med bay.   
Events came back to hit him with the full force of a returning memory and he gasped soundlessly.   
His fight with the Ein'ii.   
The fall.   
Something happening.... stopping him...   
What had happened to the Ein'ii?   
"He is dead," a soft voice said and Nikaa nearly sat bolt upright. Only his weakened condition and the first signs of more than stings of pain as he made a few moves kept him from it.   
Someone stepped into his line of view.   
"Gryph?" he whispered.   
She tilted her head to one side. "Well, seems like you are not as bad off as they said you are. You recognize me."   
Nikaa smiled tiredly. Then he frowned. "The guy is dead?" he rasped.   
She nodded. "Broke his neck and a dozen more body parts."   
"How long... how long have I been here?"   
"A week."   
"A *week*?!" Only the pain kept him from bolting up in the bed.   
"You were seriously injured, Nikaa. They kept you in a healing coma." The griffin settle down beside the bed and gave him an intense once-over.   
"I'm okay," Nikaa lied, his body aching and exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him.   
"Right," Gryph snorted.   
Nikaa met the emerald gaze and what he saw, what he really saw, frightened him. But he had to know.   
"How .... how did I do what I did? How did I survive the fall?" he asked softly.   
Gryph's wings twitched. "You should rest. We can answer your questions later." She rose to go.   
<Why?> Nikaa projected. <Because you had something to do with it?>   
She turned and shadowed optics met his eyes. <What I did was wrong. What  happened was.... inexcusable. It was ....>   
<It saved my life!>   
<By taking over your body and mind!> she snapped.   
Nikaa blinked. Now it made sense. She had been ... him! Gryph had guided him; he had fought her way, her style. Now he knew why he had defeated the guy!   
<I thought... I mean, I knew an Interface can steer a robot body, but .... the other way around? They said....>   
Gryph sighed. <I know what they say and it is true. I didn't know I could do it until it happened either. Maybe it's what developed as a new skill after we ....> She stopped, unable to acknowledge it.   
Nikaa swallowed. <Can you ... do it at will?>   
<Probably>   
He closed his eyes. Great. Just great.   
<But I won't> she added almost too soft to understand her even through the link.   
Nikaa opened his eyes and looked at her. Gryph looked like she wanted to sink into the ground. He desperately tried to think of something to say, to lighten up the mood, to push away the dark possibilities of what this meant.   
<What.... what will happen to me now? I mean, the Ein'ii and the scepter and .....> He nearly choked on the last. <Prison>   
<Everything was solved. Your name has been cleared. The Ein'ii have returned to their home world>   
<Oh. Good> Nikaa felt tired all of a sudden. He wanted to sleep...... just sleep. <How?> he wanted to know.   
<You sleep and don't concern yourself with the 'how'. I'll tell you all about it later> Gryph's unusually gentle voice whispered in his mind.   
All coherent thought left him and Nikaa drifted off. Gryph watched her partner fall asleep, then left, steps heavy. She needed time to think about what had happened, needed to get her mind straightened out.

* * *

"We found the scepter hidden in the personal quarters of Alyngill aboard the Ein'ii diplomatic shuttle," Kup reported. "We secured it and it will be handed over to Kall ghu en' Atrakar as soon as the case is closed."   
"Which it is," Optimus said calmly. "Kall told me that his brother-in-law, as well as his sister, were arrested back on Ein'iian and that they are facing several charges, among them treason."   
"What now? What of the exhibition?"   
"Apparently Kall has decided to continue it. We will open as planned and the scepter will be the center piece of the exhibition." Optimus sounded pleased. "What about Chimera?"   
Kup sighed. "That is the mystery. He has disappeared. Cyclonus said there is no trace of him, none at all. We believe he is dead. Maybe if I can have a few minutes with Alyngill I could...."   
Prime shook his head. "No. He is on the next transport out of here and back to his planet. He is facing the same charges as Grath."   
When Kup had left, Optimus leaned back and briefly dimmed his optics. He was relieved that everything had been solved, but he also knew a lot could have been prevented. Nikaa had nearly died and it was a small miracle he hadn't. He remembered only too vividly the scene when he and Midnight had arrived. Gryph had cushioned the fall of her partner, too inexperienced and too much in pain to phase him on her own. The humanoid had been bleeding heavily, unconscious, fighting off death with what little strength had still been in him. Midnight had coached Gryph through the initial shock and when the ambulance had arrived she had been coherent enough to at least hand Nikaa over to the medics. She had been a wreck the next twenty-four hours and only when Nikaa had slipped from a drug-induced coma into normal sleep had she been able to relax as well.   
Melissa had been of help as well. A tremendous help, Prime knew. She had stayed with the distraught Sentinel who seemed to trust her at least an inch more than any other robot. With Claw finally appearing as well the scene had calmed considerably. And with the opening ceremony only one day away he knew there would be a lot more last-minute work coming up.   
Optimus smiled.   
At least this time it was work he would enjoy doing.

* * *

Nikaa was allowed to leave med bay four days later. He was still wobbly on his feet and he didn't feel all that prime either. He sank down on his couch, closing his eyes against the stinging pain in his chest where his mistreated ribs were still healing. After a while he became aware of another presence with him and he opened his eyes again, annoyed.   
"Ever heard of knocking, Gwiff?"   
Green optics shot him an amused look. "Where's the fun in that?"   
Nikaa snorted. He didn't really feel up to fighting with his Sentinel partner and Gryph simply settled down beside him, her wings rustling ever so slightly.   
"You don't have to baby-sit me," he growled.   
"No, I don't."   
He short her a look. "Then why the hell are you here?"   
"To keep you company? Because I am your partner?" Her voice softened no a near-whisper. "Because I nearly lost you?"   
Nikaa swallowed heavily. "Oh," was all he managed. He evaded the optics, trying to get his surging emotions under  control. This was coming much too close. But there was no escaping the link.   
Never.   
"Okay," he finally mumbled, looking at his feet.   
An even longer uneasy silence stretched between them. Gryph lay down, making a soft, soothing noise, and when he looked into her optics he saw the invitation there. He took it.   
For the first time in their Interfaced life they consciously phased.

* * *

Melissa Witwicky sat on the roof of one of the wings of West Central, looking up into the star-filled sky. She felt good. In many ways. Deep inside she was still hurt and confused from what had happened to her, but right now most of her could ignore this small part. For now she was okay.   
"Is this seat taken?"   
The voice made her look up and a genuine smile crossed her features. "Hi, Dad."   
Spike eased himself down beside his daughter, his gaze wandering over the almost beautifully peaceful metal landscape. "I heard from Optimus what you've been up to recently," he said conversationally.   
Mel chuckled. "Oh?"   
"He thinks Nikaa and Gryph owe much of their lives to you and your efforts to clear Nikaa's case."   
She shrugged, feeling a bit uncomfortable. She had done it to take her mind off her own problems, not really aware which way it might go, accepting every outcome. She told that to her father and his smile widened.   
"You did a lot of good, Melissa. I'm proud."   
"Thanks," she whispered. After a while she added. "I want to go back to work. I mailed First Aid the request and he said I could come back any time I felt like it. And I do."   
Spike nodded. "Trust your instincts on it."   
"I know I can't go back to being who I always was. That is the past. But I can work on my new life, accept it like you did yours, and I know I have a lot of friends and a family with me."   
He took her hand and she curled her fingers around it. Spike felt her shiver a bit, but it was not the same it had been when she had been transformed into this new life form. This time it was relief and a bit of apprehension and fear that going back to work after a prolonged absence brought on.   
"You'll do fine," he whispered. "Just fine."   
Melissa nodded and they sat together, silent, a family.... support.


End file.
